Games Between a King and Queen
by shattered petal
Summary: It was one night, and that one night will deliver the most bizarre and life-changing consequences. Roy and Olivier have always loved to play games on each other. -Roy/Olivier
1. Rascals

**Title**: Games Between a King and Queen  
**Genres**: Drama/Romance  
**Rating**: M  
**Couple**: Roy/Olivier

* * *

Games Between a King and Queen  
**Chapter 1.**

* * *

'My date is late,' Roy Mustang muttered, checking his pocket watch for the sixth time that hour. Heaving a heavy sigh, he leaned against the bannister. 'I hope this isn't a sad prank of hers.'

In the past, his date had been guilty of cancelling their arranged meetings on short notice. Sometimes it was quite hurtful, if not obnoxious. Roy always took great care in his appearance whenever it was a special occasion. To realise all of his work was for nothing could be irritating. Although, really, Olivier Armstrong wasn't the type to sympathise.

'Don't worry too much, Chief. I'm sure she'll come soon.'

Turning to Lieutenant Havoc, Roy tried to smile, but he doubted him. Mind, this was a _very_ special occasion. It would be rude of Olivier to not appear; many were expecting her. She would not only disappoint Roy, but the majority of the guests as well. Catching sight of his reflection, Roy brushed back a few strands of hair with his hand.

Almost subconsciously, he checked his pocket watch again.

'If she doesn't arrive in the next fifteen minutes, Havoc, I'll just assume she's ditched me on the spot. Again. I don't know _why_ I continue to put up with this.'

* * *

The boot had left a muddy imprint on her dress. Scowling, Olivier rubbed her hand roughly against the stain. Unfortunately, the mud wasn't going anywhere. Olivier straightened and exhaled slowly. Hopefully it wasn't too noticeable. Anyway, her "date" wouldn't care much. As long as she arrived, then he would be happy and smiling.

Olivier had no intention to disappoint him, but thanks to the ambush not long ago, she was delayed. Returning her pistol to the strap around her thigh, Olivier glanced at the three dead bodies, before kneeling down beside one of them. Emptying his pockets, she retrieved an ID, wallet and a folded sheet of paper.

The other two had nothing of interest to reveal. Olivier opened her purse, and placed the items inside, before standing to her feet. 'Good night, gentlemen.' Heels echoing the dark alleyway, Olivier proceeded for the Manor which wasn't too far away. She had a feeling those bodies would still be there by the time the party ended, not that it was her problem. Some poor child might discover them.

Looking up at the clock tower, she realised she was almost an hour late.

'Shit.'

Although Olivier liked to keep Roy sweating, she didn't want to be _too_ mean. This time, it wasn't her fault, but she wondered if Roy would believe her. Well, surely the muddy imprint on her dress would be enough evidence.

Her destination was one of her family's many homes. This Manor was a little smaller than the one she used to reside when she was younger. The Manor she approached was specifically held for celebrations. Inside was a huge dining area, either used for eating or dancing. Tonight, it would be used for both. What was impressive about this Manor was how _open_ it was.

The roof was circular, ending in a tip, pointed up at the night sky. Lights from the Manor illuminated the entire street, and from where she was, Olivier could hear the jazz music of live singers and bands. Her father had put a lot of work into this. Or, more, _paid_ a lot of money into this. He would expect her arrival to be early.

Oh well. She had many more chances to please him.

Guests crowded the outside porch, and tables were scattered across the lawn, lovely lamps seated on each table. Olivier hurried past the chatting crowds and entered the large doors. A red, lavish carpet was deliberately paved from the entrance to the main dining area where hundreds of guests resided. Olivier had no interest in who was there, except for her companion.

To her dismay, Roy was not in sight. He agreed to meet her here, but she had a terrible hunch he had grown impatient. Could she honestly blame him?

'Livvy!'

Katherine Armstrong's presence could brighten any room. Olivier turned, watching her younger sister come hurrying over. She was dressed in a wonderful white dress, ending just above her knees. A pink flower was in her long, blonde hair, and Olivier noticed Katherine was wearing more makeup than usual.

It was odd how fast Katherine had grown. The last time they met, she didn't reach Olivier's shoulders. Now, they were pretty much the same height.

'I love your dress––' Katherine spotted the muddy boot imprint. The smile transformed into a cringe. '––Oh, another one?'

'I'm afraid so,' Olivier said. 'It will wash out.'

'Yes, I'm sure.' Instantly Katherine was distracted by another thought. 'Father says he wants to see you as soon as you arrive, and I think Mister Mustang is waiting for you.'

'_Was_.'

'Oh.. Oh dear.'

'I'll catch him somewhere. You said Father wants to speak with me?'

'Uh-Huh. Let me take you to him.'

Katherine escorted Olivier into the main dining area where many guests crowded in little or large groups, wine in their hands, chatting and laughing. The noise was so loud, Olivier didn't hear Katherine speak when she announced where her Father was. Philip Armstrong had a large crowd of his own, red in the face, and looking cheery as ever. His suit was new, Olivier guessed, for she had never seen it before: completely white, a rose sticking out of his blazer.

When Olivier approached him, Philip instantly spotted her, and spread his arms out, gesturing for an embrace. Olivier did not desire a hug from her Father so remained put, smiling slightly. Philip came forward, grinning ear-to-ear, sparkling from every angle. Deciding it would be best to just place a hand on her shoulder, he spoke.

'I'm overjoyed you arrived, Olivier. Your Mother and I were concerned you wouldn't make it. Lovely dress. Let me look.' Philip took a couple of steps back to admire his daughter. It was true that Olivier wouldn't be seen dead in a dress, but the occasion was special, and she thought her "date" deserved to see a dress. Even though he didn't _wait_. 'Absolutely stunning, dear.'

The dress was simple (Olivier was fond of simple). Black, the sleeves see-through, cut off a little above her elbows. Fitted around her waist, loose and slightly flowy below. Not puffy or showy. Olivier wasn't fond of such dresses. This one, however, had been in her possession for quite some time. The red tights were probably a bit too teasing, but Philip didn't seem to mind.

'There is someone I want you to meet,' Philip said quietly.

Olivier sighed. 'Of course.'

'You _will_ want to meet him. I've made sure he is...' And from then on, Olivier just blocked out Philip's voice entirely. _He_. _He_, you must meet this _he_, because _he_ will be _perfect_ for _you_. 'Look, here is the man himself!'

_Wonderful_. Olivier braced herself, and caught sight of a handsome man, around her age, if not a couple years older. His suit was typical: black blazer, white shirt, black trousers. Lots of blond hair, combed back. Very smiley. Too smiley. 'Hello, Miss Armstrong, Lord Armstrong.' He bobbed his head in respect. 'This is who you wanted me to meet, Sir?'

'That's right,' Philip chuckled. 'Olivier, meet Mister Ashby. You know his family, remember? His parents gave you a scrumptious dinner when you were younger.'

'Must have passed my mind, but a pleasure to meet you,' Olivier said, holding out a hand for Mister Ashby to shake. Not really to her surprise, the man decided to take her by the fingers, and kissed her hand.

'I've heard so much about you, Miss Armstrong. Or, is _General_ Armstrong preferable?'

'Actually––'

'No, no. Not when my daughter is off-duty,' Philip interrupted, 'Most unprofessional.'

Olivier refrained herself from sneering. Having this ass-kissing idiot calling her "General" all night would be very satisfying. 'My Father is right, Mister Ashby.'

'Please, those close to me call me Jim.'

'I'm sure they do.'

A pause of awkward silence was shared between the trio. Philip and his booming voice broke it, with much enthusiasm. 'Olivier, you _must_ show Mister Ashby your military honours.'

'They're hardly anything of interest,' Olivier persisted.

'No, I'd love to know what you've achieved, Miss Armstrong,' Jim said, smiling admirably.

'Excellent!' Philip exclaimed. 'I shall leave you both to it then.' And with that, Philip walked away, a bounce in his step.

'I've only heard about you from gossip. I am still amazed today that a woman was able to control such a fierce and ruthless army in the North,' Jim said, eyes sparkling with glee.

'A _woman_?' Olivier cocked a brow.

Jim swallowed. 'Uh, not like that, Miss Armstrong. I just–– it's _unusual_ to witness such a circumstance.'

'Believe me, Mister Ashby, the army in Central would be far more efficient if it were controlled by a woman. Unfortunately in today's society, men only have eyes for men.'

'Well, that's a little _too_ harsh––'

'Is it? Forgive me. I'm sure you, with your profession, know more about the military than a military commander would.'

'Woman or man, one can only be efficient at what they do depending on their character.'

'True, Mister Ashby, but let's consider a scenario: you're either saved by a man or woman from a battlefield. Who do you pick?'

Jim chuckled nervously. 'On the spot, Miss Armstrong, I honestly wouldn't mind.'

'You're not on the spot, though, Mister Ashby. Or do I intimidate you? You do appear flustered.'

'It–– It's nothing to do with your question. I'm merely flustered because you...' Jim pulled at his tie, and cleared his throat. 'You're so pleasing to the eye.'

'Mm,' Olivier frowned. 'Disappointing. I don't appreciate limitations being placed on my beauty. It's funny with men: they act so strong and mighty, but in the presence of a woman, they're the most pathetic creature that ever walked the earth. Don't breathe the illusion of pride, Mister Ashby, because you're a man. You are man, but that's all.'

Two strong hands fell at her shoulders from behind. 'I think Miss Armstrong is in need of a drink. Rough day, my dear?'

'Mister Mustang,' Olivier turned her head. 'I _am_ having a conversation with this pleasant fellow, Mister Ashby.'

Jim raised his gaze to look at Roy who was currently behind Olivier. 'Hello, Mister Mustang. I've heard plenty about you as well,' he said, offering a hand to shake.

'Oh. Yes, I am very popular after all,' Roy said, coming round Olivier to take Jim's hand. It took everything in Olivier to not slap her forehead when Mustang repeated the kiss on the hand which Jim had done for Olivier. 'Seeing as you thought such a gesture was appropriate for our lady friend, I thought what's the difference if I do it to you also?'

Jim retrieved his hand, a look of disgust plastered across his face. 'Miss Armstrong is a _woman_, Mister Mustang. It is polite of me to kiss her hand.'

'Then, surely it's polite if I do the same thing to you?'

'I am a _man_.'

'Wow. Olive, this one's _smart_.'

'Mustang...'

Jim scoffed. 'You are far less impressive in person, Mister Mustang. Good day to you both.' Pulling at his blazer, Jim swivelled around on his heel and left the two in silence.

It wasn't long until Roy started chuckling. 'That was too easy.'

'My Father will be the least bit happy. I think he was hoping Mister Ashby and I would see eye-to-eye.'

'I know you better than your Father does then. By the way, you're late. So you're buying me a drink. Make it a pint of that fancy wine your maid is serving.' Roy pointed towards said maid, who was carrying a tray of wine glasses.

'You have to order those,' Olivier said. It was then she realised his attire. Much different than usual, even quite wild. Purple and white lined shirt, purple trouser braces, and a blue ascot. 'Did Christmas buy you those clothes?'

Roy pulled a crooked smile. 'Why? Do you approve?' He motioned his chin towards the dirty mark across her dress. 'Had a little accident on the way?'

'Yes, that's why I'm so late. When I say that Drachman soldiers are desperate, I'm not joking. Some spies discovered my plans for this evening and decided to ambush me. Quite a silly mistake on their part.'

'Agreed. You should have invited them, Olivier.'

'Urgh, no. They'd bore me.'

Roy made a loop with his arm, and Olivier cooperatively linked her arm with his. Together, they made their way past the many crowds and into the fresh air. Roy grabbed two glasses of wine on his way out, before passing one to Olivier. It was a cool evening, but pleasant. Olivier had a feeling she might spend the rest of the night here than in there.

It didn't take her long to realise Roy's eyes had been on her for a couple more seconds than was appropriate.

'What?' She asked, not looking at him.

'The last time I saw you in a dress was when Katherine was born. It was in celebrating of her birth. A while ago.'

Olivier sighed. 'She's grown.'

'I know.' He smirked. 'She looks like you.'

'Good. That means she got the _best_ genes from my parents.'

'Have you seen Alex?'

Alex, her only brother. The actual reason she was here to begin with. A couple of weeks ago it was announced that Alex was marrying a lovely lass from a close family. Olivier was happy for her teary-eyed brother, but she wondered if his fiancée felt the same way. However, Alex _was_ her brother, so it was natural for her to feel suspicious.

Turning to the entrance, she considered finding him but: 'I bet he is really popular tonight. My appearance can wait. I should have expected him to marry soon. Father can barely stand in one place. Anything to do with Alex has him jumping in the air. I guess I can see why now. He's continuing the Armstrong bloodline, something he wanted me to fulfil a long time ago.'

Roy dropped his gaze. Only _he_ was aware about Olivier's relationship with her Father. Ever since she was born, Olivier had been pressurised into the role of wife and mother. The woman was anything but, yet this did not please her Father. He wanted a grandson, and desperately. Katherine was still not of age, Olivier's sisters weren't actually pleasing to look at, and Olivier was a hopeless case.

Thankfully, Philip did have Alex, his only son. Ever since Alex's birth, everything was about Alex. Roy understood why Olivier used to be jealous when they were younger. Sometimes, the only thing she would discuss with Roy was Alex and how her Father rarely noticed her presence. That was some time ago now. Olivier had passed the stage of envy.

'I'm happy for him,' Olivier muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

Roy nodded. 'Yeah, me too.'

'Colonel Miles sends his love.'

Roy snorted. 'Ah, yes. And I return the affection! He is a very good soldier, Olivier. The best I've seen, even.'

'I know. I did train him, but he still has much to learn.' However, Roy noticed a hint of pride in her expression.

'You know, I couldn't do what you did for him.'

Olivier faced Roy with a slightly sarcastic look. 'Of course not. I'm better than you at everything, Mustang.'

'Not _everything_.'

'Is that a challenge?'

Roy grinned. 'Not to me.'

She tried to figure out what was on his mind by studying his chuffed expression. 'I can't believe a moron like you has the rank of _Colonel_. No wonder Central is always in wrecks.'

'Hey, at least my talent got me to where I am.'

'Really?' Olivier stepped closer to him. 'I dare you to say what you just implied there, Mustang.'

Roy raised his chin. 'You _know_ what I implied, Armstrong.'

'If we weren't surrounded by snobby idiots, I would have hit you in the jaw by now.'

'You _are_ the kindest of lady I've ever met.'

'Must be. Explains why you're with me so much.'

A cold, shrill voice was heard from nearby: 'Olivier? What are you doing out here, when your brother is inside?'

Olivier turned to face her Mother. She did not look pleased, but nothing really made the poor lass happy. 'I needed some fresh air. It was way too populated in there.'

'Philip informed me he left you with Mister Ashby. With all due respect, Mister Mustang, you are _not_ Mister Ashby.'

'One can dream,' Olivier murmured.

'Olivier, you were not invited to _just_ speak with Mister Mustang. He also has to mingle as well. You two haven't changed since you were children–– just a pain for me to handle. Both of you, inside. People want to talk to you.'

The General didn't have to look and see if Roy was smirking. She already knew. When her Mother exhaled in exasperation and returned inside, Olivier decided to follow suit. 'That was a lovely greeting by my Mother. A "hello" would have been nice.'

Roy sniggered. 'She's wonderful when you're not around me.'

Olivier ignored that comment and separated herself from the man's presence. Her Mother was right; Roy would only distract her, as usual.

* * *

Not to her surprise, the night merely dragged on when she left Roy. Mister Ashby bumped into her again, and had very little to say. Philip noticed, and she could tell there would be words after the party. Finally, she managed to see Alex, who instantly had her in a backbreaking embrace, ignoring her resistance. At once Alex burst into tears and wiped his face with a handkerchief.

'I'm so happy.'

'No kidding,' Olivier said.

Alex sniffed and pocketed his handkerchief, although he would most likely require it in the next couple of seconds. Placing a hand at Olivier's back, her brother escorted Olivier towards a petite, feminine young lady. Long, brunette hair flowed past her shoulders, and she wore a fitted, blue dress, revealing her tiny form.

It then occurred to Olivier this was his wife-to-be.

She was nothing like Olivier had imagined. The lady was so _small_. 'Natalie, dear, this is my sister, Olivier.'

Natalie turned, and her eyes widened when she met Olivier's gaze. 'Oh! Miss Armstrong, I–– I'm very honoured to meet you.' Her smile was wonderful, the type of smile one _had_ to return. Olivier preferred to judge people when she got to know them, but this lady was very likeable already.

'I should have met you a long time before any marriage was arranged between you both.' Olivier stepped forwards, thousands of questions whirling in her head. 'When did you and Alex meet?'

'About two years ago,' Natalie said, looking at Alex for reassurance.

'It was love at first sight!' Alex boomed.

_Oh here we go_, Olivier thought to herself.

'Though Natalie was very reluctant to let me be her husband, at first.'

'Alex, I was desperate for you to be, but–– there _were_ complications.'

Olivier smiled crookedly. 'No need to apologise for being hesitant. Alex should be patient.'

'He was––' Both women exchanged glances, '––Mostly.'

'Men are naturally impatient for our approval. Believe me, I know plenty. In fact, there's one right now in this very room.' She grinned, and then realised she was having fun. She _liked_ Natalie.

'I've had my fair share as well, Miss Armstrong. It is rude how they expect us to swoon as soon as we meet.'

'Isn't it? I mean, _what_ am I supposed to be swooning at?'

'Ladies!' Alex exclaimed, not appreciating what Olivier was encouraging. 'Maybe I can get you both a drink?'

'Already got one,' Olivier said, raising her glass. 'And what's wrong, little brother? Feeling insecure?'

'No...' Alex rubbed the back of his head, blushing.

Natalie smiled. 'You have no reason to be, dear. You are the most gentle man I have ever met. They're so rare to find these days,' she said, linking her arm with Alex's. Then her eyes flickered over past Olivier's shoulder. 'Oh, it's Mister Mustang again.'

Olivier groaned.

'Hello. You two are so wonderful together,' Roy said, approaching the two and standing beside Olivier. 'I'm glad Olivier finally met you, Miss Hailey. I know you were very keen.' Mustang looked at Olivier. 'You were nice, right?'

'Miss Armstrong has been given the wrong image entirely,' Natalie said. 'I hope you don't mind my say so, Miss, but you do look beautiful in that dress.'

Olivier wasn't one for compliments, but she nodded anyway. 'Thank you. You do look lovely yourself.'

Roy smirked. 'So, only two more days until the wedding? I'm quite excited.'

'_You're_ invited?' Olivier said.

'Of course he is!' Alex beamed. 'Mister Mustang has been a part of our family for years, Olivier. You of all people would have to agree. Mother continuously complains about how you two always used to create trouble together.'

'_Roy_ did. Not really me. I was... dragged into his shenanigans.'

'More, _obliged_ to be a part of them, Olive. Actually, if memory recalls, _you_ were the one who planned the majority of our schemes.'

'Your memory must be fooling you.'

'My memory is my greatest trait.'

'Well, you're screwed then, aren't you?'

Alex sighed heavily, and squeezed Natalie's shoulder affectionally. 'Well, us two are going to grab some food. Would you both care to join us?'

'I'm not hungry,' Olivier said.

Roy grabbed her hand. 'Don't be silly, Olivier. We must eat. You _have_ to see the cake!'

Chugging down the last of her wine, Olivier followed her friend into the room where food was being served. And there was a _lot_ of food. Olivier swallowed, eyeing the dishes of meat, salads, sweets and whatever else there was. Nothing appeared that appetising. All those years eating gruel at Briggs had ruined her appetite completely. Now she only appreciated the worst.

Thankfully, Roy was there with his enthusiasm, picking out food for both of them to wolf down. He even started eating while he was still serving himself. By the time Roy was done, his entire plate was stacked with God knows what. Olivier could only stare in awe while he shoved all of his food down in less than two minutes.

Wiping his mouth, he looked at Olivier's dirty look, then her full plate.

'You going to eat that?'

She slid her plate closer to her. 'Yes.'

Taking her knife and fork, she cut a slice of her meat, diverting her attention to Alex, who had the entire table's attention. He was talking about how he and Natalie met, how their relationship developed and other tedious information Olivier wasn't sure she wanted to hear. While Alex continuously discussed, Olivier had to admit the meat wasn't bad.

Raising her gaze, she watched Roy pour himself a pint of beer which was available.

'How is Lieutenant Hawkeye?'

Roy looked at her. 'Fine. Why?'

'Just curious. I'm surprised she's still with you. I wouldn't have had the patience. Remind her that if she comes under my command, I'll make sure she gets better pay, is treated with respect and has more promotions.'

Mustang had a swig of his beer. 'She already has those luxuries.'

'She doesn't, really.'

'Why do you want my subordinate, Olivier?'

'Because she's your subordinate.'

Roy threw her a look.

'Fine: she is very skilled with artillery, one of the best snipers I've witnessed. We need someone like that at Briggs.'

'No.'

Olivier cocked a brow. 'Protective.'

'Maybe. Jealous?'

'You wish.'

'You're jealous.'

'I'm not jealous, Mustang. A little sick, yes, but not jealous.'

A pause.

'I was jealous of that Mister Kashby.'

'Ashby.'

'That's the one.'

'Not much to be jealous of. He didn't stand much of a chance, poor petal.'

Roy folded his arms and squinted his eyes. 'It's weird that your Father keeps shoving men into your face, completely oblivious that I keep shoving myself into your face. Quite literally too.'

'That's probably because he can't hear money in your pockets when you walk.'

'Surely what's important to Philip is his daughter being with someone who cares about her.'

'By caring you must mean "fucking". All my Father wants is for me to get fucked, so a baby boy can pop out of me.'

'I don't believe you. Your childhood has slanted your perception on how your Father feels about you. He picked Mister Ashby only after having a long conversation with him. He wanted to make sure he would take care of you well.'

Olivier had stopped eating a while ago. Now, her appetite was completely gone. 'That's just it: _taking care of me_, because I can't take care of myself.'

'The world knows that's not true.'

'I'm surprised my Father hasn't given up.'

'Well, from the looks he was giving you tonight, I'm sure he's not very happy.'

'Maybe I should jump into Ashby's arms and see if that cheers my Father up.'

'I'd _love_ to see that.'

'Whatever,' Olivier said, grabbing Roy's pint of beer and tasting some for herself. 'That's disgusting.'

Roy took the beer from her, grinning. 'You've never liked alcohol for some reason.'

'It doesn't taste nice, plus it.. makes me feel weird.'

'What does that mean?'

Olivier didn't respond. Finally it looked like Alex had finished his conversation and seated himself by his smiling fiancée. Now it was Philip's turn to stand. Olivier propped herself on one elbow, prepared for a very cheesy speech. Sure enough, there was one. She looked over at Mustang, who was smiling like an idiot. She wondered if he was _really_ that into what Philip was saying.

When Philip finished, he raised his glass as did everyone else, offering a toast to Alex and Natalie. Roy kicked Olivier under the table to mimic the gesture.

'Are you heading home alone tonight?'

Olivier narrowed her brows. '_Yes_, like I always do. Will you? Maybe I should escort you in case someone starts bullying you.'

'Good friend as always.'

'I'm fine, Mustang. The Manor has plenty of rooms, and I have many to pick from _away_ from my wonderful family.'

It was then that Alex came over and hugged Olivier from behind, almost squeezing the life out of her. 'I look forward to your arrival at home, Olivier. Katherine has said we shall be playing a few board games, and having plenty of conversations with some of our relatives. They look forward to meeting you.'

As soon as her brother left, Olivier leaned over to Roy. 'I'm going back to your place.'

* * *

Roy's apartment was nothing to look at. There were three rooms: a bedroom which could only fit a bed in it, a tiny kitchen, and a room called the "lounge" even though it only had a gramophone and settee. Olivier's first intention was to sleep in Roy's bed, and he could sleep on the sofa, but, of course, Mustang refused to abandon his bed to her.

The cupboard containing a variety of alcohol drinks was broken into, and Roy encouraged Olivier to have a drink herself. It remained untouched, and it was Roy who drank her glass after having quite a couple himself.

Roy wasn't drunk by the end of the night, but he was much more confident, which was probably why his hands knew exactly where to touch her. Several months ago, the two had slept together, and a couple of months before that. An unhealthy way of relieving stress and other issues life seemed to throw at them. However, it worked well for the two, and as long as Roy had time for Olivier's needs, then it was a sufficient cure.

Thanks to all the alcohol, Roy was a bit floppy once he fell onto the bed. Olivier straddled him, unclipping the braces attached to his trousers, watching them flick back. Placing both hands at her thighs, Roy inhaled slowly between his teeth, sliding his hands up her well-toned legs until he felt the strap for her gun. A grin stretched across his lips.

'Always prepared, aren't you?'

While Olivier busied herself with his shirt, Roy peeled away the strap and threw it onto the floor, before raising himself into a sitting position. He bit down on her lower lip while she stripped away his shirt, her hands running down his firm chest, his muscles tensing under her cool touch.

Olivier moved over his groin, feeling his arousal against her thigh, causing her to smile impishly. 'You're too easy to please, Roy.'

Roy kissed her neck, then her collar bone, his hands finding the back of her dress and pulling down the zip slowly. Her smooth flesh was soon touched by his palms, and the dress soon met with his shirt on the floor. Arms around her hips, Roy flipped her over, kissing her lips roughly, hands soon finding her thighs again, sliding up, the hem of her tights then in his grasp.

Once the last piece of clothing was removed, Olivier sighed into his mouth, allowing him to run his palm across her breast, squeezing once, before trailing his thumb over her nipple. His lips soon met his thumb, tongue flicking across her most sensitive spot, loving how her hands clenched onto his hair. But he wanted her to make a noise, to moan, to beg.

They kissed again, Olivier's hands working at his belt and slipping it away, before shoving down his trousers. Roy was soon naked atop of her, already breathless before he had even started. Olivier was expecting him to get under way, but he was teasing her. Roy's lips left her own, trailing down her neck, to her belly, and then––

Olivier gasped, amazed he would _dare_ venture so far. This wasn't fair. She inhaled sharply when his tongue confidently searched for where he would receive the best response from her. Roy soon found it, sucking there, until finally her body seemed to burst into flames. How he touched her was phenomenal, she couldn't describe it and _God_ that annoyed her.

Pulling at his hair, she breathed a moan, loving and hating how the pleasure had gradually increased, until it nearly filled her completely. Roy was not going to stop. She could demand he stop, but Roy knew what game she was playing at. Pride controlled him, confidence was his power, and she was completely at his mercy.

A load exclaim escaped her lips after a few more seconds, and she bit down on her lower lip, her hands still holding onto his hair. She wanted him to raise his head and let her have control, but she couldn't move, and Roy had her pinned. His amazing activity continued, and she was afraid she would burst, it felt too good.

Then a sharp, sudden flourish of bliss made her body tense, and her hands claimed the bed sheets, squeezing tightly, unable to remain silent any longer. Proud of his work, Roy finally raised his head from between her legs, and wiped his lips, before kissing her again. He noticed how Olivier, at first, was rather weak to respond, which only made him smile wider.

_I need to remember what I did there..._

Olivier could barely focus on what was happening, but his body against hers was torture, she had to have him. A little angry he humiliated her in such a manner, she literally threw him onto the bed, and straddled his hips, breaths heavy and shaking. Roy, mouth slightly ajar, slid his hands up her thighs again, reaching over to fondle her chest.

When she found him, he inhaled slowly, before releasing a slow exhale, allowing Olivier to rock gently against him, slow at first, becoming used to him again. It wasn't long until she became more forceful, more confident, remembering what he loved, how he reacted to what, and what he did which pleased her the most.

Roy curled his lips, raising his gaze to meets hers, and smiled slightly. This was naughty–– _very_ naughty. Olivier's parents would not be proud, and this only aroused him further.

Hands at her hips Roy groaned, letting his head fall back, allowing Olivier to have complete control of what was happening. It was what she wanted, and he honestly didn't mind. Their lovemaking continued and continued, both beginning to tremble by the amount of bliss they endured. His lips met hers again, mouth wet and inviting, and when her pace quickened a little more, Roy clenched onto her arms, jarring his teeth.

Olivier knew he wouldn't last much longer, and he finally surrendered, breathless, sweaty but very satisfied.

Several minutes passed until Roy could finally speak. Turning around, he noticed Olivier had almost fallen asleep. 'I think Mister Ashby will be really jealous now.'

Olivier slowly opened her eyes, then rolled them. Roy sniggered, wrapped the sheets around them both before pulling her close. He kissed her forehead, and smiled.

'Good night, Olive.'

* * *

Yet consequences always come back to play more games.

* * *

**author's note**: Without a doubt, the longest chapter I've written ever. Thank you for reading, and sorry if lemons aren't your thang. I tried to be as least graphic as possible, and this was by far my most detailed lemon. I always focus on emotions- this had a very different mood to it, so was different altogether. I decided to end the chapter here because it was getting too long, and I didn't want to bore you.

Yes, Alex is getting married :P

If you did read, please leave a review. I would like to continue this story a lot. Thanks again, and see you when I next update.


	2. Code

Games Between a King and Queen  
**Chapter 2.**

* * *

It was the sun which awoke Roy from his slumber. Sighing heavily, he rolled onto his back, and opened his eyes. Not to his surprise, the bed was empty beside him. Never once had Olivier been there when he woke up. Maybe this was out of pride, but Mustang had a hunch she felt waking up next to a lover was too familiar. In many ways, it was, and he understood why she would prefer to remain distant.

However, he knew where she was. There was a café a couple of metres away, one she frequently visited when in Central City. It was probably the only place she liked. Uninvited or not, Roy wanted to meet her. After last night, he wasn't the type to just brush the event off and continue how things went. Before, when they had sex, Roy tried to have some sort of decent conversation with her afterwards. It comforted him to know they were still "okay".

Of course Olivier wasn't the type to fall in love with him, just because they had slept together. She was ridiculously cold when it came to lovemaking, far less emotional than Roy was. In all honesty, he considered nights with her to be special. Generally, he considered sex as something special, something he wouldn't abuse. To make love with someone he cared deeply about, though, it only made the occasion more important to him.

Roy was due for work very soon, but he had time to socialise. After a quick shower, he pulled on his military uniform before escaping his apartment. The City was busy this morning, children running off to school, parents following after or heading to work. Approaching the café, Roy spotted Olivier sitting at one of the tables outside. A cup of tea in her hand, eyes fixed on a piece of paper.

'Good morning!' Roy greeted, sitting down opposite her.

No response. Either Olivier was ignoring him, or that piece of paper had her transfixed. Roy leaned back, admiring her slightly. Olivier was interesting to study while she worked, completely isolated from the world, and utterly fascinated. Nothing could disturb her. The early rays of sunshine made her appear more youthful, he was able to see her face better.

Roy was unaware of his gazing until a waiter had to speak three times to grab his attention.

'Ah,' clearing his throat, Roy fumbled around, wondering what to order. 'A cup of tea, what the lady is having.'

'Very good, Sir.' The waiter left.

'What the lady is having...?' Olivier murmured from behind her sheet of paper.

Roy smiled, glad she was showing signs of life. 'You _are_ a lady. I hope.'

Yet she had lost interest once again, placing the sheet of paper down onto the table. Mustang frowned, trying to read the words upside down, but noticed it was in a different language. When his tea arrived, Roy thanked the waiter, had a sip and then spoke.

'What's that?'

No answer.

He squinted his eyes at her. 'Do I have to guess?' Silence. 'Okay, I'll guess!'

'Mustang, is it possible for you to stop talking?'

Closing his mouth, Roy said nothing for the next few minutes. His eyes remained on her, glaring almost, waiting impatiently. By the time ten minutes had gone, Roy had had enough. Snatching the piece of paper from her, he began to read.

'Get off that!' Olivier scolded, trying to reach over and snatch it off him.

Roy grinned and only leaned further away. True enough, everything was in a different language, or, at least, in some sort of code. Olivier growled and returned to her seat, folding her arms. There were times when she hated him, and this was one of those times.

'What _is_ this?' Roy queried, dangling the paper before her.

Olivier quickly claimed it. 'None of your business. Anyway, you don't possess the intellect for this sort of thing.'

'If I'm so stupid, then why did you sleep with me? Or are you secretly attracted to idiots?'

She rolled her eyes. 'I was delayed last night because I was attacked, or, more, I was inconvenienced by some Drachman spies. They followed me here. For some odd reason, they believe getting rid of me will weaken defences at Briggs.'

'You should report this.'

'Who? To the authorities? Oh wait, we _are_ the authorities, Mustang.'

'What did you do with the bodies?'

Picking up her mug, she narrowed her brows. 'How do you know I killed them?'

'I know _you_.'

She had to give him that. 'Left them be. I'm sure they've been discovered already, but that really isn't an issue right now. I got what I needed from them. This piece of paper was being carried by one of the Drachman. You probably realised it's written in code. I'm trying to decipher it.'

'Have you been able to translate anything?'

'No,' she said, voice low, as if embarrassed. 'And I don't like it when I can't figure something out.'

'Maybe someone at headquarters can help you. I'm heading there in just a moment. There's an officer called Sheska, who's pretty good at researching anything. However, I doubt Drachman code can be discovered nearby.'

'I do have to meet Grumman about this, anyway. While I hate to cause a stir, this ambush might be dangerous for the country. Not that I believe the Drachman are capable of such, but better safe than sorry.' Olivier stood to her feet. 'Enjoy your tea.'

Roy smiled shortly at her and watched the General leave. Turning back around, he couldn't help feel a little giddy. Last night was still on his mind, and he wondered if Olivier had given their moment a thought. Without a doubt, Olivier would continue on with life as if nothing had happened. Or, at least, _seem_ to.

Pondering over the matter was useless right now. Roy finished his cup of tea, paid and made his way to headquarters. It was already busy with life, and he reached his office. Hawkeye was at her desk, writing away, Havoc possibly outside having a cigarette. Fuery and Falman greeted him on the way in, alongside a couple other soldiers.

The paperwork was waiting for him, and he groaned. Hawkeye ignored his complaint.

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. It was a cliché duty for an officer, but a very true one at that. Roy propped himself on one elbow and busied himself, the office silent, only hearing the sound of pen scratching against paper. Whilst he wrote, he let his mind drift over to Olivier and what code she was trying to translate.

Did he know anyone who could be of service? Roy believed if Olivier didn't find out what was on that paper, it might place the entire country in jeopardy. The door opened, and Havoc stepped in, filling the room with the scent of tobacco. Roy lifted his head when Havoc spoke. 'Hey, Chief. You disappeared without telling me last night.'

Roy flicked his gaze to Hawkeye who didn't seem to be listening. 'Sorry.' He shrugged, smirking. 'I didn't know you were my babysitter.'

'Nah, I'm just wondering where you went, seeing as I saw you leave with General Armstrong.'

That turned the heads of quite a few officers in the office. Roy would have hit Havoc in the jaw for speaking such things in public, but, unfortunately, they were in public so he didn't have the pleasure of using his fist. Instead, Mustang chuckled. 'Nothing happened, if that's what you want to ask. I escorted General Armstrong home.'

'I'm just saying, Chief, but she doesn't seem like the type who needs an escort.'

'Fine,' Roy dropped his gaze to the paperwork, '_I_ needed an escort home.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Riza twitch a smile. Havoc stood there for a moment, before curling his lips and nodding. When he went to his desk, Roy mentally sighed in relief. The gossip about him and women was bad enough, and he had no desire for his best friend to be dragged into it. Not only would it ruin his career, but hers as well.

They hadn't been discovered before. Maybe they should be more careful next time, if Olivier allowed a "next time". Sex wasn't _that_ frequent between them. It had just been such a long time since the two had been with someone last night. Roy, at least, felt that way.

Oh, why did it matter? Roy shouldn't worry. He shouldn't _think_ over such little things.

It was when he was on break did Hawkeye finally approach him. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he threw a smile at her which she half-heartily returned. Roy hoped she wasn't going to tell her off.

'I bumped into General Armstrong this morning, Sir.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'How nice.'

Deep inside, he knew Riza wasn't taking any of his bullshit. She leaned closer, and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. 'Your private life is none of my business, Sir. It is, however, becoming more obvious the relationship you share with General Armstrong.'

'What?' Roy asked, accidentally pouring coffee on the table. 'Ah shit...'

Riza continued: 'It shouldn't be an issue legally, or in general, but...' She dropped her gaze, 'You know as well as I how the world likes to gossip.'

Placing his mug of coffee down, Roy looked to her. 'Thanks, and don't worry: I know. I also know how it can ruin General Armstrong's reputation.'

'It's not just her I'm worried about.'

Roy smiled.

'How was last night anyway? I'm very pleased for Major Armstrong, and I'm sorry to not have attended his celebration.'

'There wasn't much you missed, Hawkeye. His fiancée is lovely; I'm sure you'd both get on well. The marriage is tomorrow, and I understand you're invited?'

'Yes.'

'I'll pick you up on the way.'

At first Riza was going to refuse the offer, but she nodded. 'Thank you. I do hope General Armstrong shall attend. It has been a while since we last had a proper conversation.'

'I think she's very keen to meet you as well,' Roy muttered, remembering the little fight Olivier and he had over Riza. If only the Lieutenant knew how wanted she was.

* * *

For the remainder of the day, Roy was only half-focussed on his work. Knowing Olivier was still in Central City bugged him; she was available, and if she was available, then Roy preferred to be with her. This had been the case ever since they were young children. Enduring a rough childhood, Olivier was probably the only friend he possessed.

It was just as well he had decided to peek in the library, for it was there he spotted her. Roy initially came to search for a book on code, or Drachman language. Allegedly, Olivier also had the same idea. She was currently turned away from him, three books stacked under her arm, another in her hand which she was reading from.

Roy stealthily tiptoed behind her. 'Hello,' he whispered.

'You weren't _looking_ for me, were you?'

'Don't flatter yourself. I actually came because I wanted to find a book on Drachman language, in the hopes of helping you.'

Olivier cocked a brow and faced him. 'What makes you think I need help? Actually, what makes you think _you_ can help me?'

Roy didn't answer. 'Did you speak to the Führer then?'

'Yes. Grumman is hard to receive a response from, he's so laid back. After attempting to read the letter, he recommended I research into it, while he has his best men looking into the motives of those soldiers.' She scowled. 'Best men. What a load of bullocks. I am far more superior than any of them; I could have this mystery solved within days if he let me.'

'I wouldn't take it personally––'

'Thank you for your wisdom, Mustang, but I shall interpret his words however I like. Honestly, I need to return to Briggs and sort this out from there.'

If there was one thing Roy disliked about Olivier, it was how much she loved the Fort. He knew she hated Central, and she had her reasons, but he did miss her when she was away. Even though Olivier might not acknowledge this, he was always happy to see her. Just Olivier's company alone managed to bring a smile to his face, no matter what mood she was in.

No one else could have this amount of power over how he felt. Briggs, to Roy, was what kept Olivier away from him. Yet he had to remember that they were no longer children anymore. Both were adults, and lives in Amestris depended on them. Roy could imagine the days they used to play, but those days were gone, never to be repeated.

Trying to hide his disappointment Mustang said, 'When do you intend to leave?'

'After the wedding tomorrow.'

'Ah.'

'I don't intend to stay long for the wedding, either. God forbid,' Olivier shivered. 'No thank you.'

'You have a place to sleep this evening?'

Olivier looked up from the book she was reading. Although Mustang tried to maintain a stoic expression, she could tell what was on his mind. 'My family owns many homes in Amestris, so I have a variety to pick from.'

'I, too, have a home.'

'Oh, I see. You want me to sleep with you again?'

Roy cringed when she walked away. 'No, that's not right at all!'

'Your bed is very uncomfortable, did you know that? The beds at my Manor are nicer. Which reminds me: my Father contacted me not long ago, hoping we could speak. I can only guess what that's about,' Olivier said, placing her books onto a table and sitting down. Roy sat opposite. 'That's all he thinks about: me with a husband. Imagine the look on his face when I tell him what we did last night.'

Roy almost choked. 'Please don't. It's not your old man who I'm scared of, it's your Mother. She saw us leaving together, you know? I thought she was going to rip off my face, she looked really angry.'

Olivier was laughing at him. 'She's not even that scary. You were hilarious when we were younger. Swearing and everything in front of me, but as soon as my Mother showed up, you acted like a completely different person. It used to annoy me so much.'

'She _is_ scary. I know where you get your fierce personality from.' Roy exhaled slowly. 'She was judging me last night. Her eyes. Like _death_. Do you think she knows?'

'My Mother knows a lot of things, Mustang, and I couldn't care less.' Olivier widened her eyes when she spotted something in one of her books. Pointing at a paragraph, she told Roy to read it.

_A common ways soldiers communicate of foreign ethnicity is through coded language, either with shapes, numbers or symbols. Their meaning is only understandable to few, as their interpretation can change from person-to-person.._

'The Drachman used numbers and shapes to communicate,' Olivier revealed the slip of paper. 'If only I could figure out what they're saying.'

Roy leaned forwards and scanned his eyes past the first line. 'Well, some numbers are repeated. Look.. And shapes too. They must be the same word or letter.'

'Maybe,' Olivier said.

'I think it'd be dangerous if you travelled back to the North alone. You managed to get past three Drachman soldiers, but I'm.. I'm scared more may be after you. Obviously you've become their prime target at the moment.'

'You underestimate me, Mustang. I managed to defeat a homunculus by myself.'

'Alex helped a lot.'

Olivier sneered slightly. 'Yeah, he _helped_. Not everyone can perform Alchemy, though.' It was well-known that Olivier loathed the use of Alchemy, but only Roy knew why. Folding the sheet of paper she shoved it into her pocket. 'I retrieved some ID from the Drachman, and it's currently being looked into. For some reason, Grumman wants my hands clean on this.'

After Olivier had gone through the last few pages of her remaining books, she left the library in order to meet her Father. Roy insisted on going with her, seeing as he had nothing better to do. While they walked, he felt more confident. There was something about Olivier which spiked his ego. They looked good together. Possibly intimidating, maybe a little frightening, but they looked like ones who possessed power.

And Roy liked that. He liked how she managed to create such an image without even having to try. Roy had always liked that about her.

The Manor, as always, was towering but beautiful. It was the garden which Mustang had always been fond of, flourishing with life and colour. Yet, ever since Olivier inherited the estate, the Manor was empty, occupied by her family only occasionally. This Manor was now Olivier's. Her family had many other homes to choose from.

Knocking on the large doors, Olivier waited for the butler to answer. Roy remembered him from so long ago, he couldn't believe he still worked here.

'I shall go inform Lord Armstrong of your arrival, madam.'

Both officers stepped inside the glistening Manor and waited. Roy was smiling to himself: 'He always used to give me orange juice, Mister Smith, your butler. Every time I came and had to wait for you, he'd serve me orange juice.'

'For me it was always warm milk.'

'You still like that?'

Olivier didn't answer, but Roy knew. Seconds passed and Lord Armstrong appeared from the top of the staircase. His booming voice greeted the two, and he joyfully proceeded down the steps until reaching them both.

'How lovely of you _both_ to come! Mister Mustang, what brings you here?'

'My shift had ended, and I decided to say hello. Last night was a success, Mister Armstrong. I'm very happy for Alex. Hopefully he and Miss Hailey also enjoyed the previous evening.'

'Oh yes, very much so. They are a wonderful match, wouldn't you agree?'

'Definitely,' Roy said, glancing over at Olivier, who didn't seem interested.

Philip followed her gaze and beamed at his daughter. 'My dear, would it be all right if I spoke to you in private?'

'Yes,' Olivier said. 'But I don't think Mustang is going to tell the whole City about what you have to say.'

'Indeed,' Philip replied, sarcasm strong in his tone.

It was clear he was angry with her for some unknown reason. Roy swallowed, hoping he hadn't somehow discovered Olivier's sleeping arrangements. Well, if he would scold her for that, then Roy would make sure to support her case.

Either way, he had to mind his own business. 'I'll wait outside, Olivier.'

'You really don't have to,' Olivier muttered.

If Philip wasn't there, Roy would have thrown some sort of smart comment at her. Yet when he did leave, Olivier did feel a bit irritated. If Roy was around, then Philip would always restrict what he truly wanted to say.

'Mister Ashby has been in contact.'

'Oh God.. Father, isn't it clear that we didn't get on?' Olivier couldn't _believe_ Philip was still obsessing over him.

'Your Mother tells me you left the party with Mister Mustang.'

'You don't possibly think anything happened, do you?'

'I have no comment on the matter,' Philip said, his usually happy tone turning steely. 'That doesn't mean everyone else doesn't. I already had a paparazzi asking questions this morning, about you and Mister Mustang. Imagine what this is causing for our family. I want you to start meeting eye-to-eye with Mister Ashby, otherwise there shall be undesirable consequences.'

'You _clearly_ have a comment on the matter. I didn't like him.'

The last time Olivier had witnessed her Father so angry was years ago, when she was a little girl. It was a scary sight, a sight she automatically associated with punishment. The whipping of hands, the smack on the cheek, the night without dinner. It shocked her that, even as an adult, he still managed to frighten her.

And he was the only being on earth who was capable of such.

'Your feelings for him are irrelevant. You have poisoned the Armstrong name enough, and the least you can do is try and save it from the negativity you're now drowning it in.'

'I don't want to be some man's _wife_. That's not who I am. By now, I would expect you to be aware of this.'

'I respect who you wish to be, Olivier. I always have, but I don't want you causing problems. The fact you continue to spend a lot of your time with Mister Mustang only makes things worse.'

The words "but he's my friend" almost slipped out. Olivier wasn't a kid anymore, and she understood why her Father felt this way. To him, the Armstrong bloodline was _everything_. More important than work. Olivier could advise him to retire, criticise his behaviour, but the one thing he did not permit was her refusal to do her duty as an Armstrong.

It was a very popular name in Amestris, and even beyond its borders. Many saw the family as something of an icon.  
One child could ruin that.

Philip didn't want that child to be Olivier, especially since she was now heiress to the estate.

'You can put these rumours about you and Mister Mustang to rest. Just this once, do as I say. Please.'

* * *

Roy was waiting for her, and Olivier had half a mind to disobey her Father's wishes. However, she knew he had a point: their careers were dependant on their reputation. The last thing she would want would be for Roy to lose his job. Excusing herself from his presence, Olivier decided she would give this Mister Ashby one last chance, not that she expected anything to come out of it.

The home he owned was not as large as Olivier's, but still bragged with wealth. Olivier hurried up the few steps towards the door and knocked. Hopefully this short meeting would last a couple of seconds, Philip would be convinced she had no interest, and then that would be all. A typical phase of Philip's was to obsess Olivier over with another man, and then forget the matter a few days afterwards.

Unfortunately Mister Ashby was one of his targets at the moment.

The butler told her to wait at the entrance. Olivier shoved a hand into her pocket, eyeing the hallway. Carpet covered the floor, and staircase, large lights hanging from the rooftops. She spotted a portrait of a man, dressed smartly, and looking stern and cold. He had a slight goatee, eyes black and piercing, slightly tanned skin. Staring at her, almost frowning.

'Hello, Miss Armstrong.'

Turning to Jim Ashby's voice, Olivier had to refrain herself from groaning. Though she had to admit, he looked better in his jumper and trousers than the suit he wore last night. 'My Father insists I take up some of your time.'

'The butler shall serve us tea. Please, this way.'

Olivier reluctantly followed, wishing more than anything that she was back at Briggs. 'May I ask, who is that man? The portrait?'

'My grandfather,' Jim said, peering over his shoulder to look at her. 'He was a bit of an adventurer, liked to travel the world and write about his findings. Became quite a popular author.'

Olivier soon entered what must have been the living room. Three sofas were available for them to sit at, a small television in the corner. She was surprised to see one of those square-shaped things; they were so rare and expensive. Her family had one, but it was never used. Jim gestured his hand to one of the settees for her to sit, but Olivier decided to sit elsewhere. She didn't like to be told what to do by a man.

Raising his eyebrows, Jim sat down by himself.

'How is your friend Mister Mustang?'

'Fine,' Olivier said shortly. 'Look, I didn't come here to talk about him.'

'Oh? What _did_ you come here to talk about?'

It was then she noticed the sharpness in his tone. She couldn't help but smile crookedly. 'I imagine you're still sour about last night. I think what my Father wants is for me to apologise. I can also apologise for Mustang's behaviour too.' Damn it! It was impossible for Olivier to have a conversation without that idiot becoming an element.

'Please, my night did not revolve around me thinking about you and him.'

The butler arrived with a tray of tea, and placed them on the table between the two. Jim was about to pour Olivier a cup, but she beat him to it.

'It was obvious that your Father hoped we'd get along. I did give the wrong impression at first, what with my awkward comments––'

'You do know I'm not interested, right?' Olivier said, leaning back in her seat. 'I'm only here because it'll make my Father happy.'

'That's kind. You must care about him.'

Olivier didn't like to hear anyone say that. Family could be a huge target if the enemy was aware. Knowing that Olivier cared about them would be fantastic for the Drachman. Anything to ruin her life, like she had done for them.

_Pft, I'd like to see those assholes try_.

'My grandfather was much too distant, what with his travels. I remember him telling me all of these stories about journeying into Xing. Have you been there?'

'No.'

'Well, he has. There are thousands of pictures he took, many journal entries. Drachma was also a favourite of his, despite how dangerous it was for him.'

'Drachma...?' Now Olivier was interested.

'Yeah, that's right. Apparently up in the North you're having a little bother with them.'

She sipped at her tea, eyes cold, voice low. 'Hardly.'

'My grandfather was brilliant at masking himself. He learnt so much there: the type of artillery they use, what religion they worship, how they communicate––'

'Wait,' Olivier placed her cup down. 'Do _you_ know how the Drachman communicate?'

Jim stared at her for a second, amazed she was asking for his thoughts. Then he nodded, 'Yes, my grandfather passed on his knowledge to me.'

'How about code?'

'Code...? Yes, I know the code Drachman use.'

Olivier could barely contain her excitement, but she refused to show it. Not to this man. It was risky, but she decided to show Jim the slip of paper she retrieved from one of the soldiers. 'Can you translate this for me?'

He took it from her, and read the first few lines. 'No problem, Miss Armstrong.' Then a smile stretched across his lips. 'However, I expect something in return.'

'Of course. My family literally sit on money.'

'No, no, not money,' Jim chuckled, standing up to meet her height. 'May I take you for dinner? Just you and I? No offence, but I don't want your friend coming along.'

Olivier wasn't sure what she was horrified at the most: the fact Jim had blackmailed her, or that he even considered Roy came on dates with her! _I'm not around him __**that**__ much, am I_? Surely there was another way around this. Upon thinking about it, though, she realised having dinner with Jim would be beneficial for many people: her father, for one.

'If you can translate this, then I'll go to dinner with you. _Only_ when this is translated, am I clear?'

Jim nodded once. 'Yes, absolutely. I'll have it delivered to you in person. I imagine you'll be staying at the Armstrong Manor for your brother's wedding?'

'Correct.' Olivier then made her leave. 'I expect it to be handed over very soon.'

As soon as she left the house, it felt like a pile of bricks had been lifted off her shoulders. Thank goodness someone was able to decode the letter; she just hoped Jim was telling the truth. Olivier was not looking forward to this date approaching, but if it could get her closer to the Drachman's ambitions, then surely it would be worth it.

* * *

The phone rang near six in the evening, and it was for her.

'Olivier Armstrong speaking.'

'_Hello, General. It's Jim Ashby. I managed to translate the letter_.'

'Don't tell me anymore on the phone. Will you be sending it my way, or shall I come to you?'

'_I can come over quickly to drop it off_.'

'Good.' Olivier quickly hung up, and informed the butler about Ashby's expected arrival. It was just when she was about to leave when the phone rang again. Olivier picked up, and placed the phone to her ear. 'Armstrong speaking.'

'_Hey, Olive. It's Roy. I wanted to ask if you've progressed with the letter_.'

Olivier was surprised Mustang was ringing her on this number, or ringing her _at all_. 'Yes, I have actually. Turns out that Ashby we met last night is of some use. He's just decoded the letter and sending it my way.'

'_Wow. Just as well we __**did**__ meet him. Tell him I send my love. Is he getting paid for this_?'

'More or less. I have to suffer dinner with him.'

A pause. '_Oh..._'

'Hopefully the dinner will taste revolting so I'll have to go home early. Anyway, what are you doing ringing me? It drives my Mother crazy when you keep hogging the phone like this.'

'_Aw, can she really blame me for talking to a friend_?'

'True. I mean, you don't actually have _any_ friends to talk to anyway.'

'_Nice_.'

The doorbell rang, and the butler answered. Olivier turned her head and watched Jim Ashby walk in, smiling slightly, an envelope in his hand. 'I have to go. See you.' Before Roy could respond, she hung up and approached the other male. 'Do you have it?'

Ashby handed her the envelope. 'You'll find everything you desire in there, like the time of our date and where it is.' Olivier stared at him. 'I'm joking, Miss Armstrong!' He laughed. 'I promise everything you want has been provided. I'll see you very soon, then.'

'I suppose you will,' Olivier said, watching until Jim had left the Manor. This was probably the most humiliating situation she had placed herself in.

* * *

It was only when Olivier hung up the phone did Roy realise what was wrong. Jealousy was an emotion he usually tried to avoid. Once or twice he felt it with Riza, but that was merely because he felt so protective of her. Other times, they were typically associated with Olivier. As his rival, he was naturally envious of how she acclaimed such a powerful image.

This time, though, it had nothing to do with reputation.

The whiskey tasted sour in his mouth. Roy couldn't help hate himself a little more for wishing _he_ was the one having dinner with her.

* * *

**author's note**: I am worried Olivier seems OOC in this story, but I hope that's just me being paranoid. Now, the relationship she has with her Father is purely headcanon. I know Olivier is very stern with him in the manga, but I always like to have a scenario in my head that beneath the mask, Olivier is still her Father's daughter. Considering her family's status and what she is, I think having Olivier for a daughter would be a pain.

After all, if you possess such wealth etc., you'd want your children to continue it. Olivier, his oldest, is refusing to do that and is, instead, doing something he doesn't approve of. Being in the military is something I think Philip sees a man doing, not a woman, and especially not his daughter. The punishment Olivier flashes back to is also headcanon, and actually related to real-life events. The acts of a Father can stay with you forever.

Thank you for reading. These chapters are being really long for some reason. The actual _meat_ of this story still hasn't appeared yet, but shall very soon. I'm sure many of you have guessed what it is. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you next time.


	3. Departure

Games Between a King and Queen  
**Chapter 3.**

* * *

'Have you been up _all_ night?' Katherine Armstrong asked, inviting herself into Olivier's room. Only one person on earth was allowed to do that, and, fortunately, that person was Katherine. 'Mother wanted to say breakfast has been served. Olivier, do remember it _is_ Alex's wedding today.'

Olivier almost slapped herself. How could she forget? 'I'll be right down.' When Katherine left, Olivier folded the letter which Jim Ashby had translated last night, and placed all of her equipment to one side. Jim's work had been of some use, but there were still issues about the letter.

It was certainly a message, but nothing like Olivier had presumed:

_Remember the children, and remember your home. Even though the monsters crawl from the deep, there is always a little light left for the one who survives. Come back safely. You're dearly missed_._ All my love_.

Clearly the letter was written by a close relative to one of the Drachman, however it was unsigned. Why was it in code anyway? Olivier couldn't let that mystery go. Maybe the letter had been rewritten into code, so no one could read it. But why? What was so secretive about this message?

Mind spinning, Olivier wasn't able to sleep. She spent the night and morning reading books on Drachma, a little on code, while constantly returning to the letter. _Remember the children_. She had killed a father. A reckless father, however. It was weird those men who tried to attack her were human, and had a family back home.

One of the many risks as a soldier. Olivier had no desire to settle down for that reason mostly: she wouldn't be able to be there for her child. And a successful mother had to be for their child, if they were to raise them well.

Making her way down the staircase, Olivier met her family in the kitchen. Apart from her, everyone was dressed for the wedding which was to start in four hours. The Armstrongs usually clad themselves in bright attire, typically white or yellow.

Katherine always looked good in white, so it was no surprise she was wearing a white dress today. It framed her figure nicely, made her appear older. Her Mother's skin worked better with yellow, as did her Father. Her two sisters, Amue and Strongine, both wore white. Olivier was amazed they managed to find a dress in their size.

'Dear, I _cannot_ have you wearing your military uniform at the wedding.' Olivier's Mother, Sophia, stood to her feet and tutted. 'Why can't you take that awful uniform off? I hate it when you wear that.'

'I was working all night, Mother. I'll change later,' Olivier said, finding herself a seat.

Katherine beamed at her from the other end of the table. 'Oh! What dress will you be wearing today? Not that... you have a great deal in your wardrobe. If you don't have one, we can quickly buy one at one of the best dress shops in the City. Our maid, Miss Rose, knows many places we can try.'

Sometimes Katherine tended to have her foot in her mouth. It was hard for her to stop rambling. 'Don't worry. I'll wear the one I wore during Alex's party two days ago.' She leaned forwards across the table and picked half a grapefruit to eat.

'I don't know if that'll be wise. Nanny Armstrong is coming, and you know how judgemental she can be,' Strongine muttered.

'That's not true,' Sophia objected. 'She usually judges with good intention.'

Olivier refrained herself from throwing the grapefruit at her Mother. 'I'll wear what I want, thank you. I'm going for my brother and Miss Hailey. Not for my Grandmother.' In all honesty, Olivier _loathed_ Nanny Armstrong. The most sour and poisonous woman Olivier had to face. 'And I know they won't mind me wearing the same dress as before.'

'I think you looked wonderful in it,' Katherine said. 'I've never seen you wear a dress so frequently in such a short space of time.'

'Believe me, I'd rather not be wearing one _at all_.'

Their breakfast was eaten mostly in silence. As soon as Olivier stomached her grapefruit, she hurried back upstairs, aware Katherine was eager to follow her. With a little reluctance, she allowed her sister into the room while she changed. Katherine fell back onto Olivier's bed and stretched wide, staring up at the ceiling.

It didn't take long for Olivier to quickly shower, dry, and dress herself. Always professional, Olivier rarely wore makeup, however she decided to be a little rebellious. Surely some eyeliner and mascara wasn't too much. Without a doubt, there would be many tarts at the wedding, and she might as well be one of them.

'Oh, all you need is this!' Katherine came over, and placed a red rose into Olivier's hair. 'Now you look like a true Armstrong.'

For Katherine, Olivier kept the rose. 'I don't intend to hang around, and I know Father is slow getting out of the house. I'll be taking one of the cars. Only you're allowed to come with me.'

The dress had thankfully been washed since she last wore it: the boot mark was gone, and the material nicely ironed. Both sisters returned back downstairs, and Olivier was in for a surprise when she discovered her Father was ready. Outside, the sun was shining and the temperature was warm.

As usual, Sophia made the arrangements for who was driving. Today, a chauffeur wasn't required. 'Olivier, you're to take your Father and I. Amue, you can take the girls. Come on now.'

_Damn it_. Olivier cringed a little and climbed into one of the vehicles. They were one of few families who could actually afford such a fancy vehicle. Philip _loved_ to show off his baby, but Olivier would much rather be driving around in a tank. Ha! That would have people running. She didn't realise she was grinning to herself, until Sophia pointed it out.

Starting the ignition, Olivier waited until her parents were safely strapped in. Sophia had decided to sit beside her daughter, and Olivier had a hunch why.

As soon as they were out of the gate, her Mother started talking. 'I trust your Father has spoken to you about Mister Ashby.'

_Her too?_ 'I'm having dinner with him tonight.'

'What?' Both asked simultaneously.

'After the wedding,' Olivier said. Ashby had better agree on such short notice. 'There, happy now?'

Sophia sighed. 'Philip, I _told_ you to not nag her.'

'Well, you were the one complaining about it.'

'I wasn't. I was merely concerned, and I'm starting to get suspicious about Mister Mustang's behaviour. Olivier, is he in love with you?"

Before Olivier could respond, Philip interjected: 'Those two have been friends since they were tiny. Of course they're going to be fond of each other. I used to be fond of my childhood friend; she was a nice lady.'

'Oh _God_,' Olivier groaned.

'Have you two been sleeping together?' Sophia asked.

Her question shocked Olivier so much she almost drove off the road. 'Mother!'

'I agree: that's a scandalous question!' Philip exclaimed, red in the face.

'_Someone_ had to ask.'

'Not _you_,' Olivier said. 'Why does it matter if Roy and I have been sleeping together? It hasn't changed our relationship, and nobody knows.' Then she realised how naïve she sounded. Her parents tended to have this affect on her. 'Look, if Roy loved me, I'd know.'

Sophia didn't seem satisfied with that answer. Folding her arms, she sighed again, eyes forward. They drove in silence for a little more, before she started speaking again. 'Sleeping with someone isn't as easy as you'd think, Olivier.'

'Oh, let it go! Olivier openly stated to me she wasn't sleeping with Mister Mustang,' Philip complained.

'Actually, I didn't,' Olivier replied.

'So you _have_?' Sophia whipped her head around to look at her daughter. Olivier couldn't see her expression because was driving, but she knew Sophia wasn't happy. A pause. 'Are you two secretly married?'

It took Olivier a moment to come up with an appropriate answer. She had a feeling her Mother wouldn't appreciate her saying, "I'd rather die a thousand deaths." 'No, we're not married, and we never intend to be. Mustang is my friend, or, _colleague_. He always has been. I don't want to marry.'

'Your _daughter_ doesn't want to marry, Philip!'

'Okay...' Philip muttered.

'Tell her that she _will_!'

Philip exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'My dear, we're on our way to witness the marriage of our son. Let's focus on one child at a time, all right?' Then he averted his attention to Olivier. 'I've already spoken to you about such a matter, and I'm sure you knew anyway. I can't believe you're... _intimate_ with that man, though. The rumours are true.'

'Rumours?' Olivier cocked a brow. 'I hate this place. All people do is gossip and try and make other people feel like shit.'

'Olivier!'

'Sorry: feel _rotten_. Don't worry, Father, those rumours shall cease when I return to the Fort.'

Sophia groaned in irritation. 'That's not what _we_ want! You never stay home for very long; you're always in the North with those disgusting men––'

'I'm not talking about this with you,' Olivier said. Sophia noticed how her grip on the steering wheel had tightened. 'If it weren't for them, _Mother_, you probably wouldn't be alive right now. They're the finest soldiers you're going to find in this godforsaken country. Of course, how would you know? You never give them a chance.'

Before Sophia could retort, Philip stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. 'Right. Olivier, dear, this is the Church. Remember, girls, it's bad luck if we see the bride before the weeding.'

'That only applies for the groom,' Sophia rolled her eyes.

Olivier couldn't last much longer in the car. As soon as it was parked, she jumped out and instantly headed for Church, not waiting for her parents. When she reached the doors, she spotted the car being driven by her sisters pulling in. How did Katherine tolerate her parents all the time?

The Church was beautiful inside, decorated with white roses, the sun beaming in through the windows. It was so bright, and cheerful. Already a few guests had arrived, and presented Alex with presents. Olivier spotted her brother to the side, having a conversation with their Uncle Maxwell. It had been a long time since Olivier met him.

Alex spotted her almost at once. 'Sister! You look wonderful.'

Her brother was dressed smartly: white three-piece suit, a gorgeous, large red rose blossoming out of his top button. It was the first time Olivier could actually approve of his attire. Hopefully he wouldn't rip the suit off later in the day. Eurgh. 'Thank you. The others are on their way.'

'Ahh, if it isn't little Olivier. Well, not anymore! You've grown a lot,' Maxwell commented, rubbing his chin. 'Last time we met, you were up to my knees. I hear a lot about you, and the amazing work you've done in the North. Your previous commanding officer would be very proud of you.'

Olivier remembered him, the man who introduced her to Fort Briggs. The first individual in the military to see her as a human being, not just a woman. His death was sudden, but her admiration for him remained the same. 'I apologise for my frequent absence.'

'No worries,' Maxwell smirked. 'I bet the North is far better than down here.'

'My darling sister has improved the Fort so much. The first time I visited, the men were out-of-control, and were like a pack of wolves. Now, they've been tamed by Olivier. If only I could follow in those men's footsteps,' Alex said. Olivier couldn't help but feel slightly touched to hear him say all of that.

'Don't be harsh on yourself, Alex. Those men were born rough. You have a gentle heart, and that's nothing to be ashamed of,' Maxwell said, smiling. His eyes swerved to the rest of the family, entering the Church. 'Ah, here they are. Excuse me, Miss and Mister Armstrong.' Quickly, Maxwell hurried over to greet Olivier's parents.

Alex placed a hand at Olivier's back and escorted her towards the front, where two males were talking together. Olivier recognised one of them, a friend of Alex's for the past ten years. It was sweet how they were still close. He turned when they approached, and nodded his head towards Olivier. 'Miss Armstrong, it's good to see you.'

'Show her the ring,' Alex said.

His best man smirked and presented a golden, shining ring, a diamond attached, winking at her. 'Nice pick,' Olivier said, carefully holding it, before returning the jewel back to Alex's friend. 'I'm sure Natalie will be pleased.'

'Actually, I chose it,' the best man said. He chuckled, 'Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Cedric. We've probably met before.'

'We have,' Olivier nodded, 'But only by sight. You and Alex became friends just when I started the academy, so we wouldn't have had a conversation.'

'I have spoken to your friend, though. Roy Mustang, isn't it? He's a very good man, helped my girlfriend and I during a very rough period. Although, back then, she wasn't _mine_. Her boyfriend was abusive, violent and ridiculously threatening. Thankfully, Alex knew Mister Mustang who helped the situation. I don't know what we would have done without him. Is Mister Mustang coming today?'

Alex beamed, sparkling slightly. 'Yes, certainly! Olivier would be quite lonely without him.'

Olivier rolled her eyes. 'That's not true. Anyway, it's been good to meet you, Cedric.'

'You too.'

For some odd reason, Mustang didn't arrive. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was on time. The two spent the majority of the time together until the ceremony began. Mustang still hadn't appeared, much to the women's annoyance. What an idiot. Hawkeye hoped Roy hadn't slept in, or done something stupid.

Olivier, however, believed he had done just that.

The organ started to play the traditional anthem, and Natalie soon came into view, wearing a flowing, white dress, the tip carried by her bridesmaid. Her hair had been styled, more wavier than before, and she looked very happy. A bouquet of flowers was in her grasp, and her eyes were focussed on her husband-to-be, who waited for her, looking both nervous and excited.

What shocked Olivier more than anything was how _contained_ Alex behaved. Usually at weddings, he was in tears. Now, he was _stoic_. Or, as stoic as Alex could get. Maybe today was just so special for him he honestly didn't know how to respond. Olivier knew her brother was emotional. Today, the amount of feelings whirling through him must be insane.

Natalie reached her fiancé. Alex leaned over and removed the veil from her face, and then the vows were read between them. While they were spoken, Olivier heard the Church doors opening. Peering over her shoulder, she watched Roy, cringing and blushing, tiptoe inside and stand at the back.

So, he arrived. Olivier nudged Hawkeye, who also turned and spotted him. _Moron_.

The ceremony soon ended, the new couple sharing a kiss together, and then finally Alex reduced to a few tears. Olivier didn't try to speak to them; they were crowded so quickly by the crowd. Instead, she followed Hawkeye over to where Mustang awkwardly stood. She had a lot of snarky comments up her sleeve.

'Didn't want to miss your beauty sleep?' She asked.

Mustang raised a brow at her. 'I'm already beautiful. Hey, Hawkeye,' he smiled at the Lieutenant. 'That was lovely. I'm really proud of Alex. Natalie looked gorgeous in that dress, wow. If Havoc saw her, he'd be head-over-heels.'

'I doubt Natalie would feel mutual,' Hawkeye replied. 'Sir, it'd probably be best you apologised. Your entrance did turn quite a few heads.'

Roy noticed Olivier was smiling to herself.

'Shut up, Olivier.'

'I didn't say anything!'

'You were going to. Anyway, Hawkeye's right, I should say "sorry". Just have to barge through the crowd and find Alex, wherever he is.'

Hawkeye soon had a crowd of her own, Catalina being the head of it. Olivier had no desire to mingle. In fact, if she was going to have dinner with Jim before returning to Briggs, she had best do it now. Yet it would be rude if she left without saying anything, and her brother deserved her congratulations anyway.

Unlike Mustang, Olivier found no fault in shoving a couple of people aside to find Alex and Natalie. By the time she reached him, Alex was holding onto a handkerchief, but seemed to have stopped weeping. Olivier allowed him to give her a bone crushing hug. 'Wasn't she absolutely terrific?'

She realised Alex was referring to his wife. 'Well done, you two,' Olivier said. 'Do you both have a honeymoon planned?'

'Yes. Alex has wanted to travel to Xing for a long time, and we're going there. We might even visit the Royal Family, if we're lucky.'

'I've met them,' Roy said. Olivier didn't realise he was standing right next to her. 'Lovely people. You'll get on well with the family. I've met the Prince, Ling. Tell him I said "hi".'

'We will, Mister Mustang,' Natalie smiled.

Both Olivier and Roy decided to let others speak to the happy couple. Once they were free from the crowd, Roy turned to Olivier. 'So, what's going on between you and Mister Ashby? A _date_, you said?'

'More or less. A thank you for translating the letter.' Olivier stopped talking when she noticed an elderly lady was watching them from her seat, her eyes beady and narrow. The Grandmother Olivier dreaded to meet. Roy, however, was polite and proceeded over to her.

'Hello, Mrs Armstrong. I'm overjoyed to meet you,' he said.

Nanny Armstrong hated him, and her expression was enough to show that. When Olivier arrived, she looked at her. 'This boy is very weird, don't you think?'

Olivier frowned. 'No, I don't actually.'

'Dressed in his cheap suit. Don't get me started on his Mother...'

'Now now, Mrs Armstrong. Today is a happy day,' Roy said. Olivier was amazed he kept his cool, for he could be quite sensitive when it came to his adoptive Mother. 'I hope you enjoy yourself.' Wisely, Mustang stepped away from the older woman, aware her prying eyes remained on him. More than glad Roy was leaving, Olivier followed. 'So what did the letter say?'

It would be wise of them to speak where it wasn't public, so Olivier escorted Roy out of the Church and away from ears. 'Nothing special, unfortunately. Possibly a letter from a close relative, telling someone, I imagine the Drachman, to not forget his family. I'm quite familiar with those. Apart from that, nothing new.'

Roy rubbed his cheek. 'I still think it's dangerous of you to head back to Briggs.'

'I'll be fine, and it would be foolish of them to ambush me again. Especially in public.'

'You'll return to Central soon, I hope? I doubt it will be long until Alex and Natalie have a child together.'

Olivier shook her head. 'No. Being away from Briggs for only two days was risky enough. A lot is happening up there. Not to mention I need to contact Miles in Ishval and see how he's going. His absence at the Fort has been noticed. It's odd that I lost two of my closest men in such a short space of time.'

It didn't have to take a genius to realise Olivier was referring to Captain Buccaneer as well. Roy sighed. 'For the better. I'm lucky to still have Hawkeye. I–– I hate to imagine what I'd have done if she didn't survive.'

Catching his eye, Olivier felt a jab of anger. Quickly shrugging the feeling off, she began to make her way down the steps. 'I have to go. Jim probably won't wait forever.'

'Jim?' Roy queried. 'You're both on first-name basis already?'

Olivier scoffed. 'What does it matter to you?'

'You do know he isn't your type.'

'Yeah?' Olivier said, voice blunt. 'And who is? _You_?'

Roy looked a little insulted, and he shook his head. 'It doesn't matter. Go and have your wonderful date.'

A very long time ago Roy had behaved this rudely. Turning to face him properly, Olivier almost slapped Mustang for his behaviour. She didn't like it when he acted like a spoilt brat. Then it occurred to her what was wrong. Olivier laughed shortly, cold. 'Oh, don't tell me you're _jealous_ of him.'

Roy shrugged once, angry.

Sophia's words rang in Olivier's head: _"Sleeping with someone isn't as easy as you'd think, Olivier."_ Now Olivier realised why. Emotions were a pest, she just didn't expect Roy to be a victim of them.

There were many things she wanted to say to him; most harsh and insulting. However, Olivier knew that would only make the situation worse. Roy was angry with her because of her decision, and she couldn't help find that unfair. It was for the sake of her people, she was doing this. A deal was made. She was merely sticking to it.

If Roy was jealous and angry, then that was his problem. 'You haven't changed a bit,' she said, voice filled with snide. Turning on her heel, she proceeded down the steps, feeling Roy's eyes on her the whole time until she was out of sight.

_Idiot_.

* * *

Olivier's sudden arrival caught Jim off guard, but he happily obliged to have lunch instead of dinner. Grabbing his coat, he pulled it on and suggested a nice restaurant they could eat at. Sure enough, the building was lovely, spotless, and cosy. While a waiter found them a table, Olivier eyed the food some of the customers were eating.

The grapefruit she had this morning obviously wasn't enough, for her mouth was watering at the sight of the food being eaten. Sitting down opposite Jim, she quickly browsed through the menu. Whenever on a date, she loved to mock her partner, and order the most expensive meal.

However, she wasn't in the mood. Roy had annoyed her, and, for some reason, she couldn't get him off her mind. Was he actually that jealous? It was so stupid! Roy should know she wasn't interested in having a relationship with anyone, especially Jim Ashby. Roy and her were friends, and Mustang should know better.

When the waiter arrived, Jim allowed Olivier to order first. Glancing at the menu again, she really couldn't make up her mind. 'I'll just have chips, please.' She was expecting Jim to frown at her, but instead he made his order.

'I'll have the same, actually. A bowl of salad too.'

'Very good,' and the waiter departed.

Maybe he wasn't so bad. Jim poured them both a glass of wine. 'I hope the letter I translated came in some use for you, Miss Armstrong.'

'Not particularly, but thank you anyway. I don't know who I'd have gone to about that,' Olivier said, taking a sip of her wine. 'By the way, why weren't you at Alex's wedding? It was this morning, you know.'

Jim nodded, smiling. 'Of course I know. I, unfortunately, had _another_ wedding to attend earlier, and wouldn't have arrived in time for Alex's. I do hope it was successful. He did seem very much in love with Natalie.'

'I bet,' Olivier smiled crookedly. The wine tasted really good, and when their meal of chips and salad arrived, she had already downed a second glass. The chips were mouthwatering, and with some extra pepper, Olivier was certain this was the nicest meal she'd had in a while.

'How is your family?'

'Fine, fine.'

'Katherine has grown very pretty over the past few years.'

Olivier nodded. 'I know.'

'Looks like you.'

She paused mid-chew, certain Roy had said the same thing before. 'Do you have a girlfriend, Mister Ashby?' The question was very out-of-the blue, causing him to choke a little on his wine.

'Uh–– Call me Jim, please. And no, I don't.' A pause. 'I don't think so...?'

'No.'

'Fair enough.' He ate a chip, blushing slightly. 'Do you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Whatever suits your fancy.'

'No.'

'No...? See, I've already discovered similarities between us.'

Olivier almost slammed her head onto the table. 'I have a hunch they're the _only_ similarities, Jim.' Eyeing her chips, Olivier realised she had lost her appetite. The discussion of their love-life had ruined it. Maybe it was the wine, but she couldn't keep in her irritation towards Roy for much longer. 'I think a man I've been sleeping with likes me.'

Jim raised his brows slowly. 'Oh. I see. Well, who can blame him?'

Olivier threw him a look. 'He's not _supposed_ to.'

'How do you know he has feelings for you?'

'I don't know if he does, but his jealousy for when I announced I was eating with you was enough evidence.'

Jim laughed, sipping at his wine. 'Let him be jealous, Miss Armstrong. You deserve to have a fulfilling relationship.' Realising what he was implying, Jim quickly added, 'Not with me, of course!'

'No, it's all right.' Yet Olivier felt her response was unfair. When it came to fulfilling relationships, Olivier had been the worst of the two. Spending her years at the Fort, destroying the close friendship she shared with Roy, and bringing something so special down to sex.

Olivier wondered when she had sex with him, Roy was making love to her. Two very different activities. She only slept with him because of the satisfaction. Any other reason would be dangerous and, well, stupid. Roy couldn't possibly be sleeping with her because she _meant_ something to him.

'Why do men have to be so fucking difficult?' Olivier scowled, chewing on a chip. 'They're like a puzzle, really hard to get your head around.'

'That's funny. I always hear women are like that.'

'Yeah right. Men are so weak and sensitive. No offence.'

Jim smiled shortly, and leaned forwards. 'Maybe this man was a little confused, that's all. I mean, I barely know you, and I'm aware the last thing you'd want to do would be going out with someone. He probably just needs an explanation.'

'That won't happen,' Olivier muttered. 'I'm not the type who comes running back for forgiveness.'

* * *

The train for North City had arrived, and Olivier wasted no time to head onto the station. Finding an appropriate carriage, she was about to climb inside, when she heard her name being called. _Urgh, can't I be left alone for once_? To her dismay, it was Roy Mustang, and he seemed just as displeased as when she left him.

'What do you want?'

Roy stopped in his tracks at her question, then shook his head and approached her. 'A good bye would have been nice. You'll probably be coming back in the next three years.'

'What is _wrong_ with you? You never give a shit if I say good bye or not. In fact, most of the time, you act _pleased_ if I'm leaving. Not that I have a problem with that. Because when you _are _like that, at least I can be reassured that you're normal. Lately, you've become so pathetic.'

Then he was laughing at her. Olivier sneered and was about to hop onto the train, when he caught her wrist. A long silence was shared, and she could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. '... I think I'm falling in––'

'Don't you fucking dare, otherwise I'll break your neck.'

Roy's upper lip twitched, possibly in anger or frustration. Roughly, he grabbed her collar and shoved his mouth onto hers, the typical gentleness of his affections gone. Instantly, Olivier pushed him away and slapped him across the face.

'Do that again, and I _will_ kill you.'

Finally he let his friend go, but reluctantly. Roy exhaled, quite surprised by what he had done. Through the window, he watched Olivier find a seat, and frowned at her when she lifted her middle finger at him. A smile soon reached his lips, and he shoved a hand in his pocket, leaving the station.  
As always, he would be there, waiting until she came back. In the hopes that, maybe one day, their youth could be relived.

By the time the train had departed, his cheek still stung from her touch.

* * *

During her journey, Olivier was not ambushed, and she was more than happy to be back at the Fort. Her men were glad to have her back as well, and work continued as usual. Drachma didn't attack, and there weren't any enemies in sight for the next few weeks.

It was during a telephone conversation with Miles when she felt odd in the stomach. Olivier pretended to ignore the horrible sensation throughout the day, and it was only when she was half-way done through paperwork when she realised what was wrong.

The bathroom at Briggs was a dump, piss all over the floor which no one could be bothered to clean. The stench only made Olivier feel worse, and as soon as she reached the toilet, the woman vomited.

Even worse symptoms followed, and she threw up again later that day, her appetite gone completely. This was a dangerous thing to do. As a soldier, constantly prepared for battle, Olivier had to eat. It was only after two more days did some of her men realise she wasn't well.

The last thing Olivier wanted to do was visit her doctor, Sherri. While she was efficient at her job, she could be a right nag. Olivier didn't have a choice in the matter, though. Sherri didn't take long to diagnose the Major General. When she was done, Olivier realised she appeared quite flustered. If not, shocked.

'Is it an infection?' Olivier asked.

'Definitely not,' Sherri replied.

'Good.' Olivier stood to her feet and pulled on her jacket. 'Then I should recover soon.'

No response. Olivier looked at Sherri, cocked a brow. Her doctor curled her lips. 'You will recover that's for sure. There will be complications during your recovery, however.'

It wasn't a surprise, nor a shock. Olivier felt nothing when it finally clicked, and when it finally clicked, everything made perfect sense.

'I'm pregnant, aren't I?'

* * *

**author's note**: A quick update, but I love writing this story, so decided why not? Thank you **Queen of Narnia49** and **Krunch the Coco** for reviewing the last two chapters. I really appreciate your support. Until next time!


	4. Hesitance

Games Between a King and Queen  
**Chapter 4.**

* * *

Olivier felt nothing. The news didn't even shock her. It was possible that the effect of the revelation would take a while to hit, but she was aways quick to respond, so this delay was disconcerting. For the past hour, she had been sitting in her office, thinking. The paperwork was waiting, untouched. Many solutions came to mind, but, really, she knew there was only one way in which she wanted to go through with this.

It took some reluctance, but the telephone was soon in her grasp, placed to her ear, and she was dialling Roy Mustang's number. Tapping the desk with her pen, she hoped he wouldn't pick up. Maybe she needed more time to think on how to say this. However, the Flame Alchemist answered: '_Roy Mustang speaking. How many I help you_?'

At first, she felt a strange tingle in her belly. It was odd to think she was pregnant with this man's child. This man she had known for years and years. 'Mustang, it's Armstrong. We need to talk.'

There was silence on the other end, and she rolled her eyes. If the idiot was still upset about her slapping him across the face a few weeks back, then that was ridiculous. '_What about_?'

And this was it. The confession. Gripping the phone tighter, she swallowed, and was amazed to discover she was _worried_. Why? What on earth could he say that made her _worry_? Leaning back in her seat, she decided to just say it. 'I'm pregnant, and the baby is yours. I imagine the child was conceived during that night we spent together after my brother's wedding celebration.'

Then the innocence began to seep through, the concern, the fear and anger. Olivier knew her hands were trembling, she knew she was emotional and allowing her feelings to take control, but she couldn't stop herself. This was her friend–– her friend since they were tiny children. Of all people, she trusted him the most, trusted his loyalty and support.

Yes, Olivier was capable of going through this pregnancy alone. She was strong, capable and fiercely independent. However, right now, she was thinking about the child's needs, not her image. The child would require a Father. No, the child _must_ have a Father, otherwise that would be so selfish of Olivier and Roy. And, surely, Mustang would understand. Surely.

She heard him inhale shakily. '_Gosh_.' Relieved to hear he was still on the other end, she straightened herself and waited for a further response. '_Olivier, I–– I need to think for a moment. Can I get back to you please_?'

Never had she felt more human. A terrible hole formed in her chest, and she wanted to scream at him, wanted to grab him by his collar and scream at him. How dare he? How dare he think he can stop and _think_, as if unsure if he wanted to be a Father or not. Unlike Roy, Olivier didn't have a choice. She _had_ to go through with this.

The anger she endured was too much. 'Fine,' and before a reply was given, she slammed the telephone down and rested her head in her hands. Olivier had _trusted_ him. How foolish. She had picked up the phone and expected him to, at least, show _some_ loyalty. He was such a weak man, incapable of deciding for himself, and whenever tricky matters were thrust upon him, the man ran away.

So if she hated that about him, then why was she so disappointed? Many men would be queuing up to be with her, pregnant or not. Why bother with a man who had no desire to form a committed relationship? Oh, why was she even wasting her time thinking about him? It was quite clear he was reluctant to offer support. Who was to say he would _never_ offer it?

_Time to think my arse_.

Damn it. She shouldn't have rang him. Looking down at her paperwork, she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate. Roy had made an impact on her stability, and this only angered her further. Standing up, she exited the office and headed to her favourite place at the Fort: the roof. Up there, no one would disturb her, and the cool air would refresh her mind.

Legs dangling off the edge, she stared off into the distance, an alternative to her pregnancy coming to mind. No, she couldn't do that. Although Olivier was fine with abortion for women, she, personally, didn't want to go through that experience. In many ways, she didn't need to, and her baby –– it was weird to be referring to it like this –– didn't deserve that either. It wasn't the child's fault she decided to sleep with Roy that night.

Scowling, she considered contacting Miles. He was good with advice, he was a wise man, but she couldn't bring herself too. This matter was much too personal, and the soldier had enough to deal with right now. Glancing to inspect her gloved hands, she realised she was still shaking. Did Roy's opinion matter this much? It then came to her what was wrong: she was going to be a Mother. A baby's Mummy. This was a surreal feeling, and she didn't like it.

This wasn't like training an army, and having thousands of men obey her commands. It was much different. This was a part of her, a part of Roy, who would grow up to be what he or she wished, hopefully looking up to their parents' advice. The responsibility was like no other. A life –– which would become so precious to her –– was in her hands now. She was going to be having a baby, with or without the biological Father.

She must have spent a good two hours outside, and when she decided to return to her office, she wondered if communicating with her own parents would be wise. Without a doubt, they would not be impressed, but maybe some support would be offered. Then again, her Mother was firm and very coldhearted –– more so than Olivier sometimes. If her daughter was making a fuss because she was pregnant with someone's child, then it wasn't her problem to sort out. Olivier didn't want to imagine what her Father's response would be.

'General Armstrong,' an officer said from behind.

Olivier was so distracted in her thoughts she didn't realise a young Sergeant was following her. Turning around, she raised her chin. 'What is it?'

'We've just taken in a casualty, but Captain Hanks believes you should have a look at him. He isn't a soldier of the Amestrian Army. We later discovered he was a _Drachman_ soldier.'

At first, she thought it very irresponsible to offer mercy towards a Drachman. However, Captain Hanks wasn't an idiot. She had given him his rank for a reason. Brushing past the younger soldier, she proceeded for the medical room for the second time that day. Upon arriving, she was displeased to discover four soldiers crowded around a bed.

'All of you, _out_, except Captain Hanks. You can explain to me what's happening.'

Obediently, the other three men departed quickly. Hanks remained. In some regards, he reminded her of Captain Buccaneer, possessing the same gruff appearance and heavy voice. Unlike Buccaneer, though, he had a lot of hair at the top of his head, always messy. 'Ford and I were patrolling the grounds and spotted this kid lying in the snow. On closer inspection, we realised he was wounded.'

Olivier could see that. Bandages were wrapped around the boy's arm, leg and head. The boy was young, very young, eighteen at most. He was certainly Drachman, but he wasn't a soldier. First, he wasn't wearing the uniform. His clothes were that of a civilian. Second, it wouldn't make any sense for a soldier to enter the Amestrian borders alone. Unless this boy was a rogue, or disobeying orders which was a very foolish thing to do.

'Did he have any weapons?'

'Yes. A pistol. The magazine was empty, General.'

Looking over at the Doctor, she was about to ask what she thought, but Olivier had faith she knew what she was doing. Maybe it would be useful to keep this kid around and get some answers from him. 'Make sure he's fed when he wakes up. I doubt he can speak Amestrian, so try and find a soldier who can communicate with him. Sergeant Mayors is pretty fluent in Drachman. He shall not leave this room, though. Not until I've met him.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Exiting the ward, Olivier began to feel nauseous again. However, she ignored the uncomfortable sensation and returned to her office. It would be worth her having Captain Hanks report the situation, so the file could be kept, just in case. Sitting down, she decided to keep this boy's whereabouts a secret from those in Central or in the East. First, she wanted to talk to him and find out his reasons for stepping over the Drachman borders. No soldier would dare do such a thing.

Plus, how did he get so far anyway? There were many possibilities why. One of her men might have mistook him for an Amestrian. The Drachman were good at faking their identification. Yet that seemed unlikely. The boy _looked_ Drachman. Either he was incredibly stealthy and could dodge her men (which was unheard of) or one of her men had let him in.

She would find out soon enough, of course.

Gathering her army into the large hall at Fort Briggs, she was going to ask them if they knew anything about this mysterious boy. After stealing a coded letter from one of the Drachman she killed, it did seem too much of a coincidence that a wandering boy would end up here. Captain Hanks followed Olivier towards the hall where her men were waiting. Unfortunately, he was also unsure how the kid managed to get so far.

Never once did her men get away with lying, and they always pleaded guilty if they had done something wrong. Upon entering the room, the entire place fell into complete silence. One could hear a pin drop. Her presence stunned each one of them in place, and even Führer Grumman would be left in awe by the amount of power she possessed over these untamed soldiers.

A microphone was necessary so each of her men could hear her, there were so many. Captain Hanks waited in the doorway and watched Olivier approach the microphone. Raising her head, she inspected each individual there. It would be impossible for her to know if anyone was missing, but she would find out either way.

'Today at 1406 hours, Captain Hanks reported to me about a young Drachman soldier passing the borders leading into Amestris. Currently, the boy is in our custody, and recovering from fatal wounds. At the moment, he is to be left alone, however he is due for questioning.' A pause. 'I demand one of you reveal who let this boy through. We _guard_ the border, we _are_ the border. To have such a careless mistake happen is unheard of, and I demand to know who let this happen. If you don't step forward now, I'll have to take further precautions to make sure you are found. The longer you wait, the harsher your punishment shall be.'

At once her men turned to each other and started mumbling together.

'This shouldn't require discussion!' Olivier didn't have to raise her voice that much, and instantly her men were quiet again. 'I am not asking you for _my_ sake. Anyone with the slightest bit of intelligence would realise I have approached you for the sake of our country. We are here to protect it. Or have you forgotten why you are here?'

Silence. And then: '––It was Roberts, General Armstrong!'

Olivier raised her gaze to identify who had spoken up. A young soldier, in his mid-twenties, had lifted his arm to grab her attention. The General knew who he was referring to. 'Is Roberts with us?'

Her men looked around, and she knew the answer: no. He was not with them. Of course. Olivier clenched a fist. She _loathed_ men who disobeyed her, or lacked loyalty, but she did what she could to earn their respect. Roberts wasn't exactly the toughest of the lot. If anything, he was weak, unable to perform as well as the others.

'Hicks,' she said, recognising the soldier who spoke. 'Come here at once. I want anyone who knows about Roberts and his whereabouts to approach me immediately. If not, then you are dismissed.'

While her army dispersed, Olivier waited for Hicks to come forward. He had been under her command for the past three years so didn't shake in fear like most young soldiers did in her presence. Clicking his heels together, he saluted. Olivier nodded once.

'You are to report what you witnessed to Captain Hanks and I.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'This way.' Olivier escorted both men out of the hall and towards her office. Once they entered, she closed the door behind her and approached the younger soldier. For a second, she let her eyes study his expression for a moment, trying to spot any worry or fear. There was nothing. He seemed relatively calm, if not confident. 'Speak.'

A quick, sharp command. 'Roberts and I share a quarter together, along with three others. I know him the best, I suppose. We were having breakfast one morning and, for some odd reason, he jumped from his seat and left. It was later I realised he was very ill, but he refused to go to a Doctor about this. His unusual behaviour continued, always rushing to the toilet during patrol duty. I later discovered his illness was psychological. I hope you don't mind me saying so, ma'am, but he isn't the strongest character. He was ill because he was scared about something.'

Hanks glanced at his commanding officer. Olivier replied, 'How did you know it was psychological?'

The soldier smiled slightly. 'It was obvious, ma'am. He _looked_ scared. Whenever he rushed to the toilet to vomit, he was sweating and shaking. Something was giving him the creeps.'

'Perhaps,' Hanks said. 'Or, perhaps, you were right first time: he was worried. Something was worrying him.'

'Was he eating? Olivier queried. The question sounded so bizarre, Hicks wasn't sure if she was joking, but her blunt expression proved otherwise.

Upon thinking about it, he realised her question wasn't that crazy. 'No, barely.'

'When I first knew Roberts, he was always eating,' Olivier said. 'Worry, or fear will, without a doubt, ruin one's appetite. How did you know it was he who let the boy pass?'

Hicks shrugged. 'It just made sense to me. Captain Hanks, sir, you reported to have seen him early this afternoon. Well, Roberts left early this morning to fulfil his duties, but he never returned.'

'Roberts wasn't on duty this morning,' Olivier confirmed. 'Or, he _shouldn't_ have been.'

'The events link together so well, ma'am. I doubt it's a coincidence,' Hanks muttered.

'Agreed. He hasn't returned?'

'No,' Hicks replied. 'I am slightly worried, ma'am. Do you think he's all right?'

That was not a question she could offer a sufficient answer to. 'I'm not the type to beat around the bush, soldier. You'll need to keep an open mind. At the moment, we're still uncertain about what happened and I'm sure things will start to make more sense when this Drachman boy wakes up. Captain,' she said, turning to Hanks. 'You, Hicks and ten of our best men shall search the area for Roberts. I don't care if he's wounded or not. He must return so I can have a few words with him.'

'With pleasure,' Hanks said, cracking his knuckles.

'Hicks, this is your first proper assignment. Don't let me down.'

The soldier nodded, then saluted. 'I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am.'

When Hanks made his way for the door, Hicks was about to follow. However, Olivier grabbed his forearm, 'If something like this ever happens again, you must report it to me immediately. Am I clear?' The boy swallowed then nodded. Olivier released her grip on him, and waited until the door was closed. Finally alone, she leaned herself against the desk and scrunched her eyes closed.

This sickness was becoming unbearable. Olivier wasn't the type who felt sorry for herself when she didn't feel well, but never in her life had she felt so shit. Exhaling slowly, she sat down behind her desk and grabbed her file of paperwork. Grabbing her pen, she propped herself on one elbow, and got to work, despite the awful sensation in her stomach.

At least an hour ticked past. Her pregnancy was driving her hormones insane, and she had heated up. Pulling off her military jacket so she was left with the white shirt beneath, she tried to refocus her vision. But every time she looked at her work, all she saw was blurred words. When she heard a knock at the door, Olivier paused. Then, she sighed and said, 'Enter.'

A Briggs soldier appeared. 'Ma'am, I'm sorry to disturb you. Colonel Roy Mustang requests to see you.'

For a moment, she was in a daze. That name rang a bell, and she wasn't sure why. It took every ounce of energy in her to not slap herself. _Mustang? What's he doing here?_ Standing to her feet, she said, 'Right. Let him in then. You can leave, too.'

When the soldier exited, Roy stepped inside. He was dressed in civilian clothing: shirt, tie, trousers and black coat. Olivier stared at him, unsure how to respond. A hesitant, small smile reached his lips and he stepped forwards, stopping himself before her desk. Olivier wanted to smack him. She wanted to hurt him, but she was silent. Confused, angry–– and was this _relief_?

'What do you want?'

Her words were sharp. It was clear she wasn't happy. Roy shoved a hand into his pocket. 'I wanted to see you, Olivier––'

'You are to call me _General_ when I'm working, Mustang.'

'General,' he said slowly. 'You rang me this morning to inform me about your pregnancy. When I said I needed time to think, you must understand that I was in a little bit of shock and needed time to––'

'Shock?' Olivier scoffed. 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Mustang. You see, here I was, skipping with joy about this. I didn't need any time at all. Hold on–– I wasn't _given_ any time. I _had_ to go through this, and you had the audacity to run away. I rang you because I thought you would have wanted to know, because I hoped you wouldn't be like most men and shove away any threat to your perfect lives. I suppose I was wrong.'

'God dammit, Oli–– _General_! I came here because I wanted to talk to you face-to-face. To come to an understanding––'

'There is no understanding, Mustang. _I_ am pregnant. What about that is so hard to comprehend? You're either pregnant or you're not. Don't give me shit about _understanding_.'

'I'm sorry, but––'

'Don't apologise, Mustang. You did it, and there's not a chance in Hell you can turn back the clock and change your pathetic words. You're a damn coward.'

'I want this baby with you!'

Roy was now red in the face with fury and impatience. It drove him insane how Olivier kept interrupting, refusing to hear what he had to say. Yes, he knew he had acted terribly when he said he needed to think. Yes, he knew he had been an asshole. As soon as Olivier hung up the phone, he wanted to ring her again and redeem himself.

To his relief, Olivier said nothing. She averted her gaze.

'Of _course _I want to support you,' he said. 'Don't you _dare_ compare me to those men who run away from their women being pregnant. I am not that cruel; I will _never_ want to be like that. I thought you knew me.'

'Yes, I _do_ know you, Mustang!' Olivier snapped. 'That was why I felt so disappointed when you wanted to think. Because I was hoping you would at least give me _some_ implication that you–– Dammit, that you would _be_ there for this child!'

'I do!'

'You hesitated! Don't you dare deny that, Mustang. You _hesitated_.'

'And you didn't?'

'I had no choice! Of course I didn't hesitate. This child may not have been planned, but of _course_ I was going to let the poor thing _breathe_. It doesn't deserve the crap you're throwing its way. Yes, Mustang, I know: this child is _real_. One day, it'll be out of me, and living. All I wanted to know was that you'd be there when it arrives, to bloody well show your face like any _decent_ human being would do. You _hesitated_. You had to _think_ whether you wanted the child or not. That angers me so much, to even consider you have an opinion on what I do with my body.'

Currently, her heart was pounding against her ribcage, and she was certain she had never felt so furious in her life. Inhaling sharply, she tried to calm down. Placing both hands onto the table, she swallowed, aware her limbs were trembling but she didn't care. Let him see her shake in anger, let him see her at her worst. No way was she letting him run scot free. He needed to _know_ what he did, he needed to _know_ what message he sent across when he said he needed to think.

However it would be foolish of her to not realise he had travelled all this way. The journey to the Fort wasn't pleasant, especially the climb. Still, she wasn't a forgiving woman, especially to those she placed so much faith in.

Roy was speechless. When he spoke, he didn't _realise_. It just seemed so natural for him to stop and think about what was going on. Olivier was terribly analytic; she had realised what he _really_ meant by thinking, and Roy wasn't even aware himself. How sick was that? That a man thought it would be _normal_ of him to consider other options on what a _woman_ could do with _her_ body and _her_ child.

'Olivier.'

'Refer to me by my title, you insubordinate ass.'

'General, I'm sorry.' And he looked it, but she wasn't going to accept his apology.

'You know what?' Her lower lip trembled, however she kept her tone straight. 'So am I. I want to apologise to the child currently growing inside me. I want to say sorry to the child for having such parents like us.'

And that hurt. Out of everything she said, _that_ hurt the most. She might as well have ripped open his chest and pulled out his heart. Roy couldn't move, his limbs paralysed and, for the first time in his life, he was scared of her. Scared of what she would do to him, but he knew she wouldn't harm him. Not physically. There wasn't any need. It was her _words_ he feared the most.

Bright, blue eyes cut through his and he looked away. Roy didn't know how to respond. Whatever he said, she would snap. He came all of this way only to be yelled at. Maybe he deserved this, maybe not. Either way, she had upset him. Narrowing his brows, he met her gaze again, and he waited for her to speak, to dismiss him, but she never did.

Roy growled when there was a knock at the door. Olivier was tempted to ignore the disturbance, but she walked over to the door and opened it. A soldier saluted. 'Ma'am, the Drachman boy has woken up. He speaks Amestrian.'

So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Olivier nodded. 'I'll be there shortly, Lieutenant.'

Nodding once, the soldier left. Olivier turned back to Mustang, wondering if he had any thoughts on this strange Drachman boy.

'You can be of some use,' she said, as if their heated argument had never happened. 'A boy has been discovered near here, and he's Drachman. Right now, we're trying to discover his reasons for being here. You might find this case of interest, officer.' Before Roy could reply, she exited the office and walked on ahead.

It wasn't long until she heard his footsteps behind her. Always following Olivier's lead.

* * *

**author's note**: Call me paranoid, but I think it's important I highlight that I am _not_ against abortion. A woman can do whatever she bloody well wants with her body, end of. Now that that's clear, what Olivier said reflects very much how I feel towards men who flee from their girlfriend ending up pregnant. It's sick, and I think, of all people, she would feel very strongly about such behaviour. One could argue she overreacted, but Roy did hesitate and, in many ways, that was harsh and unfair for Olivier. Thank you for reading, and please leave a review. The Drachman boy plot is sort of something on the side, but is very significant to the development between Roy and Olivier.

A quick thank you to ** [ You Know Who ] **Yeah, I know you are ;), **Queen of Narnia49**, **Krunch the Coco** and **elebelly** for your wonderful feedback. I'll see you next time!


	5. Raid

Games Between a King and Queen  
**Chapter 5.**

* * *

Shock was the first emotion which hit Roy Mustang when he laid eyes on the boy. From the entrance, he didn't look Drachman. He just looked young and vulnerable, a child wanting to go home. Briggs had trapped him here, and the Major General wasn't going to let the adolescent run free so easily. Olivier hadn't yet informed Roy the full details as to why the Drachman boy was here, but he knew he would find out soon enough. Glancing at her, he tried to read her expression, however failed. The tension in the room was fierce.

Both soldiers stepped forwards. Roy let his eyes fall over the boy's wounded arm, blood seeping through the bandages. One side of his face was awfully bashed, and it was doubtful he would be able to use his left leg for a while. Whoever had wounded the kid, they had wounded him good. Roy wondered whether such injuries were deserving, though. For the moment, the child was still asleep until Olivier spoke, her voice harsh and sudden, able to wake up anyone from their slumber.

Instantly the boy sat upright, scared to death. Roy placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Oi, take it easy. General Armstrong and I need to ask you a few questions. If you're cooperative, this shouldn't take too long.' The boy looked over at Olivier, then back at Roy. The Alchemist held his gaze before turning to Olivier. 'Go ahead, ma'am.'

'You speak Amestrian?'

The boy nodded slowly. 'Yes.'

'You got a name?'

At first, the boy hesitated, and Roy could feel his fear from where he stood. 'Kyo.'

'You entered the Amestrian borders with the aid of one of my men. Can you confirm that?'

Kyo swallowed, and said nothing for a while. Olivier was patient. It was clear he was trying to figure out whether to lie or not, however _lying_ would be a very bad idea. Thankfully, Kyo was smarter than he appeared. 'Mm, but Jacob was supposed to meet me. He never did. I think the Chief got him before he could make it.'

'Jacob...?' Roy asked.

'Jacob Roberts. Allegedly, he was the man who led this kid here.' Olivier cocked a brow, 'I just wish I knew why.'

'I wanted to find my Father.'

'Your Father isn't here. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would realise I don't keep Drachman soldiers in my army.'

Kyo was stunned, afraid of what she might do to him. Yet he was talking again. 'He wasn't in your army. I was told he went to find you in Central, but he never came back. I was waiting for him, my Mother was too. Then I guessed you probably had him as prisoner.'

'Do you remember the three men I told you about during Alex's do?' Olivier said, looking over to Roy, who nodded. It was evident by her expression what she was implying. Facing Kyo again, she said, 'Your Father is most likely dead if he came after me.'

Although it was probably best he knew, Kyo did not take her words lightly. A horrible scowl twisted over his expression, and if it weren't for his broken arm, he would have gone for her. Olivier was the least concerned about this boy trying to harm her. He was no match. The woman had encountered larger, rougher men with no sense of playing the game fair. To be faced with a boy, who barely knew how to hold a gun–– that was just insulting.

'I want to know where Roberts is. Like Hell I'm letting him be under Drachman custody.'

Kyo said nothing.

'You don't want to make this hard for yourself, kid.'

Then he sneered. 'You're just a woman. What can you do?'

Roy felt his heart skip a beat. If there was one thing he loathed it was sexism, but he knew Olivier had everything under control. 'Do you want to find out?' She queried, unmoving. Roy was aware of the blade strapped to her hip, aware she could cut this boy's throat in less than a second. When Kyo looked at him, Mustang merely stared back. This wasn't something Roy would joke about. It seemed Olivier's invitation and Roy's blunt look did the trick.

'I don't know where he is and I wish I did,' Kyo said. 'You're going to have to look far into Kyokiri City to find him; they keep the prisoners there.'

Roy pulled at his Alchemy glove, catching Kyo's attention. 'If you're lying,' he said, 'I'll make sure you're introduced to what I can do. Believe me, you'd rather be telling the truth.'

'I swear I am!' Kyo said, staring at his glove. 'I swear!' He looked over at Olivier, desperation in his eyes. 'You don't trust me?'

'I don't trust you, no. However, I shall take your word for now. Mustang, we're going.'

Obediently, Roy followed his superior officer out of the ward. It had been a very long time since he questioned someone like that with Olivier. Without any effort, the two managed to intimidate their enemy so easily. There was always a thrill about working with Olivier, and there was always something special about the two as a team. Despite their differences, they managed to get the job done, no issues.

When they were out of Kyo's earshot and inside her office, Olivier turned to him. 'I'm sure you've caught on quickly about what I intend to do.'

'Raid that damn city and find the son-of-a-bitch. It's done, Armstrong.' Grinning, he waited for Olivier to grab her military jacket and slip it on. They then proceeded for the armoury, and she passed him a sniper rifle, and pistol. It was doubtful he would require these, though. His Alchemy was a good enough threat to have men surrendering at his feet.

'You're going to hide your identity. I understand you've already worn one of these.' Olivier soon revealed a white uniform, with a mask. Before, Roy had witnessed Briggs men wear such attire, and it did look frightening. Their faces were covered, and, in the snow, they were very hard to discover thanks to the white material. Throwing him one, Olivier said, 'Mustang, I only want you to use your Alchemy as a last resort. This isn't exactly a rescue mission, but it's not an extermination either.'

Roy wanted to respond with a nasty comment. How dare she talk to him that way? Mustang was more than aware how she felt about his Alchemy, but he wasn't a crazed maniac, desperate for murder. The look he gave her would have been enough to send the message across, but Olivier was far too distracted for kiddish rows. They changed, armed themselves with weaponry, before exiting the Fort. She passed him a listening device.

'Use this to communicate with me, and the others at the Fort. I have three men listening in case you require backup.'

'I'll be fine,' he muttered, snatching the device from her and placing it to his ear.

Olivier wasn't wearing her mask yet. He ignored her disapproving look. 'Try not to make a mess out of this.'

'Remember who you're talking to.'

'Exactly.' With that, she slipped on her mask.

It wasn't snowing, which Roy was grateful for. He followed Olivier, one step behind. She had always been quicker than him since they first met, but he was able to catch up. Speedily, they dashed through the snow, his sniper patting his back every time he stepped forwards. It didn't take them long to reach the entrance to Drachma. Thankfully, the city Kyo spoke about was the first for them to pass, so Olivier was expecting she, Roy and Roberts to be back at the Fort before dark. Looking up at the sky, she took the time by glancing at the sun, before facing forwards again.

'You know who we're looking for, right?'

'It won't be hard to find a white guy amongst a bunch of Drachman.' Roy cocked his chin towards the city. 'The prison base. You bet he's there, or do you think Roberts is their new best buddy? I'd rather be searching around the homes more than anything. He could be anywhere.'

'Let's try and keep it simple, Mustang. We're not tourists.' Yet he had a point. 'I'll search the prison base which isn't so far from here. There are military headquarters to the east. If they were fond of him, he would most likely be there.' She checked the magazine of her pistol. 'That damn asshole. I'd hate to know what he's been gossiping about.' Olivier raised her gaze. 'Move out––'

'Be careful.'

Olivier stopped, looked at him, then scoffed. Roy waited until she was a couple of metres ahead, before he ventured east of the city. The chill was beginning to nip at his flesh, but he continued, pressing his back behind a little hut as soon as he was in the city. Mustang removed his pistol, turned around and scanning the area. For the moment, it was very quiet, deserted even. He didn't know the city that well, but it was clear where the headquarters was. Usually it was built in the centre, or, if not, right on the border.

Unlike Mustang, Armstrong already had a crowd waiting for her. She bent down on one knee, peering around the corner, spotting about four Drachman soldiers idling about. Olivier spotted the prison close by, guarded by other men, angry dogs growing at their ankles. Many times she had done this, so it wasn't a problem. Preferably, she would have liked to stealth her way through the soldiers, but they were too much in the way. _Either eat, or be eaten_.

'Try this on for size,' she whispered, retrieving a grenade from her pack and chucking it over. Olivier couldn't help grin when one of the soldiers exclaimed, and then all four men blew up, limbs flying in different directions. This caught the attention of some officers, who instantly got into position, carefully treading towards the area Olivier had thrown the grenade.

She waited patiently, very quiet, watching one of the men come into view. Before he could spot her, Olivier jumped, bringing an arm around his neck and pulling him down, away from sight. He struggled against her grip, cursing and spluttering, and she shoved her arm harder against his throat. Finally, he fell limp. Snatching his artillery, she checked to see how many other men were coming her way, but the other two were inspecting elsewhere.

Seizing this opportunity, she quietly stepped into view, sniper rifle in hand. Carefully, Olivier shot them both in the head, before rushing forwards. The coast was clear, but Olivier knew from experience to not judge so quickly. She eyed the prison gate, looked left and right and was about to head forwards, but almost charged right into a Drachman. Swiftly, she hid from view behind a couple of barrels, and fired the sniper.

'Fucker,' she muttered, taking the corpse's ammo and continuing her way.

Meanwhile, Roy had managed to sneak into one of the HQ offices without being spotted. Some idiot had left a window open, and by climbing the pipe, he managed to leap inside. The room was empty, except for a couple of filing drawers and papers. Roy foolishly pulled off his mask due to the heat, and slowly opened the door. The hallways were very similar to those in Central City, except Drachman soldiers were much more paranoid, with good reason. Two men were standing a metre away, talking quietly to one another. Another was patrolling to the left.

Rolling his eyes at the stupidity, Mustang fired two bullets hitting each mingling soldier in less than a second. Then, he turned his attention to the oblivious soldier patrolling. Deciding he wouldn't spot him, Roy dashed off down the hall. It would be wise for him to not stir up a scene, so barging into every room he spotted wouldn't be wise. However, he had no idea where to head. Roberts could be anywhere. Then, he thought, as he was here, he might as well try and find some more information on what Drachma was intentionally planning. Unless Kyo was some sort of rogue.

'You won't believe how quiet it is here,' Roy whispered into his mouth piece.

'_You're so new to this, Mustang_.'

He smiled, glad to hear Olivier's voice. Roy noticed a soldier coming his way and quickly darted into a nearby room. Awkwardly, he bumped into a dozing officer. Before the soldier could retrieve his pistol, Roy placed both hands at either side of his face and aggressively twisted his neck, breaking it. Roy inspected the sheets across his desk, before emptying his desk drawers. Nothing of use. He went over to check the desk opposite, which was much more tidier. In fact, there was barely anything on the top, except a few pens.

The drawers were empty. Roy was about to give up, when he spotted a little flap at the bottom to one of the drawers. He lifted it, and was more than happy to retrieve a small, but fancy lighter. Havoc would appreciate this. Roy's eyes caught sight of a tatted, grey photograph. He picked it up: there was a young man, a moustache above his upper lip, and beside him was a lady, long hair, both very happy with a baby in the woman's arms. His eyes then fell on an enveloped letter in the drawer, and he was about to open it when the door barged open.

For a moment, he and two Drachman soldiers just stared at one another. Then, Roy took action. Shoving the photo and letter in his pouch, he pushed the desk over. The bullets ricocheted off the front, and he speedily grabbed his pistol, and jumped up, firing, shooting one of them in the shoulder, before ducking again. The bullets ceased for a second, and Mustang raised himself above the desk, firing the wounded officer in the head, before aiming for the other. 'Ah, shit,' he cursed when three other men appeared. He ducked before a bullet hit him.

One of the soldiers yelled at him in a different language, then tried again in Amestrian: 'We got your friend, so stand up and surrender.' It was probably an error in the translation, but Roy couldn't believe they had captured Olivier. 'You don't give us gun, then we shoot her.' It was a bluff, surely, but Mustang wasn't taking any chances. Not on Olivier.

'Not before I shoot you,' he said, and fired.

It was when the alarm sounded throughout the city did Olivier realise Roy had let his guard down. Swearing under her breath, she turned her attention back to the three soldiers at the prison desk. She had entered without a problem, but now she had these guys and two ugly dogs to take care of. Olivier knew she wouldn't be able to take them down individually. There was a big, meaty fellow she didn't like the look of, so it might be wise to get rid of him first. However, she didn't have time to sit and ponder.

The bullet shattered the beefy man's skull, and at once the other men were on their feet, the dogs barking loudly. This was certainly going to arouse attention from whoever else was there. Olivier was about to stand and fire, until she heard about six other men hurrying this way.

'Assholes.' The blade was unsheathed and she was a blur of white. Blood sprayed, and screams echoed the prison, her sword cutting through flesh easily, feet light on the ground. She raised her sword when someone fired at her, the metal reflecting the bullet, before she sent her sword straight into the man's stomach. Pulling it out, she swung it around, cutting another's neck. One of the soldiers was firing aimlessly at her, panic making his arms shake.

Olivier ducked and charged for him, leaning her weight on his shoulder, jumping up and sliding the blade into his collarbone. She almost forgot about the dogs who were let off their leash. Olivier thrust her blade into one of the animals which leaped for her, its jaw snapping. She threw the dead dog aside, and turned her attention to the next, which had been held back by one the guards. The soldier scowled at her.

'What's the matter?' Olivier queried, breathing slightly heavy from so much movement. 'Didn't want to hurt your precious pet?'

'Who're you?' He sneered, unable to see her face behind the mask.

There weren't many women at the Fort. Actually, there were only two: Olivier and the doctor, Sherri. However, the majority of Drachman soldiers were ignorant of this. They also didn't know about Olivier's amazing skill with a sword. Those eight men were down so fast, it was no surprise the Drachman facing her could barely stand. Fear almost knocked him off his feet.

'Someone passing through,' she said, and slashed her sword up, cutting the man's throat and face. Olivier then thrust her blade down into the dog's spine, before sheathing her sword. The desk was hers for looting through. There wasn't much valuable information, but she speedily read a notepad, revealing the names of the prisoners. 'Ah,' she said, pointing at Roberts' name. 'Mustang, come in–– Mustang?' She heard bullets, and exclaims in Drachman.

'_Uh, in a bit of a pickle–– Fuck!_' More bullets. '_What is it?_'

'Roberts is here. Get your ass out of wherever you are.'

'_Right_. _Don't wait up_.'

The amount of prisoners was very minimal. Some stared at her while she rushed past, while others had the audacity to comment. Olivier soon reached the cell where her soldier was. A lot of questions whirled in her mind: why on earth had he been taken prisoner when he had helped a Drachman? Roberts widened his eyes when he spotted Olivier. The Major General didn't require key to unlock the chain. Thankful for her strong Armstrong gene, she snapped the chain and opened the barred door. 'You're coming with me.'

'And you're coming with me, you little bitch!'

Olivier would later curse herself for allowing someone to shoot her. The bullet punctured her shoulder, but the blade sliced through the man's chest quickly. Ignoring the agony of her wound, she tugged on Roberts' collar and shoved him forwards. They stepped over to the soldier's corpse, and out of the prison. Olivier spoke into her mouth piece. 'Mustang, where are you?' She turned, watching an idiot soldier rushing for her. Before he could raise the gun, she kicked him in the face, and he crumpled to the ground. 'Mustang!'

'_You got him_?'

'Yes. We're heading back. Where are you?'

'_I'm coming. Just lemme get past these idiots_.'

Olivier wasn't going to wait. Pushing Roberts towards where she and Roy split up, she checked behind her to make sure no one was following. Once they were out of sight she tripped Roberts up, before pinning him to the snowy ground. Roberts exclaimed, and went quiet at once when she pressed the gun to his forehead. Olivier straddled his hips, hand pressed below his neck.

'You've got a _lot_ of explaining to do.'

Roberts gulped. 'I––'

'Shut the fuck up. I'm going to have the _nicest_ soldier I know question you.' Many horrible soldiers came to mind, who would _love_ to crush this boy's spirit.

* * *

Once Roberts was handed over to very eager soldiers, Olivier departed for her private quarters. Roy had arrived to meet them, and obeyed Olivier's orders to have a gun placed to Roberts' temple until they reached the Fort. The bullet lodged in her shoulder was starting to cause more pain, and she needed to take it out. Stripping off down to her bra, she poured some hot water, and grabbed some tweezers.

Dipping them into the water, she then started to tug out the bullet. Seething, she struggled to ignore the sharp sting shooting from her wound to the rest of her body. Finally, Olivier tugged the bullet out and exhaled slowly, relieved. Before she took care of herself, she eyed the bullet, before throwing it into a bin nearby. Olivier then inspected her injury, not surprised to watch blood pour from her shoulder and trickle to the floor.

When she grabbed a couple of tissues, the door opened. Olivier was _not_ in a good mood to be disturbed so rudely. 'Get out now!'

Instead of a stuttering "yes, ma'am", this soldier ignored her. Armstrong was about to grab her pistol, but stopped short when she saw it was Roy. She was still tempted to pick up the gun though and shoot him. Mustang's eyes fell on her shoulder, and he instantly softened his expression, 'What did you _do_?'

'_I_ did nothing,' Olivier snapped, wiping away the blood. 'Fucking Drachman got me when I wasn't looking.'

'Here––'

'Back off!'

'Olivier, shut up and let me do it. You're only encouraging more bleeding.'

She reluctantly flung the tissue at him. Roy pulled a face at her, then had the wisdom to use a flannel instead. Fortunately, Olivier's quarter had the correct medical equipment. When he dabbed the warm, moist flannel against her wound, Armstrong hissed between her teeth, tensing a little. However, he was very gentle, and very careful. Soon, the wound was clean, and he started to bandage the injury to avoid infection and stop the bleeding.

Olivier looked at his face, wanting to glare at him for being right. How much she hated it when he was right, but Roy wasn't watching her. He was entirely focussed on the bullet wound, and his usually rough hands were soft at her flesh. Olivier was almost soothed by his touch, but she was a stoic and proud woman. No way would she express her thanks.

'You should take more care.'

'Don't advise me on how I should look after my body, or on _anything_, Mustang.'

Roy eyed her up and down. 'You're covered in scars.'

'I've been on a battlefield for the past fifteen years. What do you expect?'

'I didn't notice when we made love,' he said, finishing the bandage.

What did he say? Olivier averted her gaze. 'That's probably because you're more interested in sticking your penis inside me.'

'Funny,' he said. Roy then met her eyes. 'All done.'

'Wow, thanks. I mean, I wouldn't have been able to do that without you.' The sarcasm was heavy. She pulled on her shirt, twitching at the pain in her shoulder. 'What do you want?'

Roy frowned.

'I imagine you didn't skip up to my office to check me out.'

'Our conversation previously ended when we hadn't finished. I was––

'I'm sorry.'

'... Excuse me?'

'I acted a little overboard, I admit,' Olivier raised a brow. 'I just wasn't expecting you to arrive here personally. That made me angry. You–– You confuse me.'

'Oh?' He smiled slowly.

'Don't take that as a compliment. You infuriate me, actually.'

'I'm sorry too,' he said. 'We acted like kids. I was silly, and you lost your temper.' He shook his head. 'That's not a good way to start what we have together.'

Olivier was so engrossed on her mission in Drachma, she forgot she was pregnant with Mustang's child. For some reason, that made her feel guilty. 'Together? Look, I appreciate you coming over, but don't get all mushy on me. That's disgusting.'

'Still. I think we did a pretty good job back there.'

'I imagine you left without a graze.'

'Of course,' he smirked. 'My body is spotless.'

'It just drips with a poisonous ego.'

They both stood to their feet. Olivier was about to head out of the office and see if her men had found out anything from Roberts, but Roy stopped her. He caught her wrist. 'We need to talk, Olivier, about this. Your family will want to know.'

She shoved her arm away. 'Yeah. I can only imagine their responses.'

'I'll stand by you when you do.'

'Great. You can praise me for having this bastard.'

Roy shoved a hand into his pocket. 'Bastard or not, this is our child. True, it wasn't planned, but you don't think it's unwanted, do you?'

'No,' she said at once. 'I know what it's like to be unwanted, Mustang, and I don't want this child to go through the same treatment. If my family refuse to acknowledge the child, then they've lost two relatives. I would rather tell them in my own time.'

Roy smiled at her. There were many traits about Olivier which he loved, and this was one of them. Family did mean something to her, but so did those who weren't related or, in this case, not yet born. Roy remembered how Olivier described her parents, how aghast they were when she announced an Ishvalan was under her command. She wasn't afraid of being abandoned, not by anyone. Her family were valuable, but this child, her own flesh and blood, was more so. If they spat at her feet because their child wasn't conceived through marriage, then that would be their loss, not her own.

'I understand,' he said.

'While I'm absent, go and "bond" with that Drachman kid. He might like you.'

'That shouldn't be hard. I'm very likeable, Olivier.'

She stopped at the door, turning to him. 'If there's one thing I don't want our kid to inherit from you, it would have to be everything and your ego.'

Roy chuckled. 'Thanks, I guess.'

When she left her quarters, Roy sighed heavily and his smile faded. He remembered back to his confession at the train station, when he almost said he loved her. Those words were still true. Unlike Olivier, Roy knew what he was feeling, he knew why she was constantly in his thoughts and knew why her words had such a powerful effect on him. He loved her, unconditionally, he loved her, and he loved the child she was carrying too.

Time was precious, though. A gift which Roy wouldn't abuse. _In time, she'll know._

* * *

**author's note**: Yo yo, so I really wanted to show off Roy and Olivier's badass side. Man, these two would be such awesome parents. If only Olivier were more cooperative, ya know? The photograph and letter Roy discovered shall be studied into very soon. Thank you **Queen of Narnia49**, **Krunch the Coco**, **Singofsolace** and **caitie2250** for reviewing the prior chapter. I appreciate the feedback so much; it means everything to me.


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